


Prepared to Sacrifice

by GoldenEyesObsession



Series: Kintsugi [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fisting, Anal Gaping, Anal Sex, BDSM, Caning, Chastity Device, Coercion, Coming Untouched, Dom/sub, Dry Orgasm, Dubious Consent, Edgeplay, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Feminization, Figging, Fisting, Forced Crossdressing, Forced Prostitution, M/M, Mild Foot Fetish, Mild Forced Feminization, Multi, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Object Insertion, Object Penetration, Oral Sex, Organized Crime, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Praise Kink, Rough Oral Sex, Sex Toys, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Sexual Coercion, Size Kink, Sounding, Spanking, Subspace, Urethral Play, Voyeurism, focus on the DS
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 80,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23521747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenEyesObsession/pseuds/GoldenEyesObsession
Summary: Vincent Safinov is nineteen when his parents die, leaving him a debt he can't hope to repay. When the loan shark comes calling, he has a choice: sacrifice himself or his sister."True love is selfless. It is prepared to sacrifice." ~ Sadhu Vaswani
Relationships: OMC/OMC
Series: Kintsugi [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725214
Comments: 277
Kudos: 1368
Collections: General Darkness ‘n Shiz





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Irredeemable, inexcusable smut ahead? With only the loosest premise at a plot. Tags will be updated as additional kinks are included.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the tags. Blanket disclaimer--this is in no way meant to depict a healthy BDSM relationship. This is a fantasy.

"Well," said the man, legs crossed, chin propped on a fist, looking every inch a lord on his throne. "if not your sister... then I would accept you in her place."

Vince could not have heard him right.

"What?"

The man's lips stretched into a Cheshire grin, amused, but cold and cruel. "You heard me. Your sister is beautiful. She won't easily be replaced. But you..." His gaze ran over Vince's body like a physical thing, and Vince shuddered in its wake. "Well, blood tells."

"You... you can't be serious."

"Your family owes me money. A lot of money. Money your sister could earn back, or you could earn back. Which will it be?"

Despite the sick feeling in his stomach, there was only one answer. "I'll do it."

The man's eyebrow rose as if to _ask are you sure?_ "I will not let you off lightly. However much you think you could make me with the strength of your arms, it's on your back you'll be earning me my money. But... the more willing you are, the more _accommodating_ , the more I can charge for you--the sooner you may earn me back my money."

 _A whore,_ Vince thought. _Is it worth becoming a whore for this man?_

Amelie's face flashed across his mind. He thought of her doing this, and his resolve strengthened. It was just sex. Maybe he hadn't been touched by a man before, but Vince couldn't get pregnant, couldn't be tied to a man with a kid, couldn't have all his life plans derailed because of one.

"Can I earn enough to support Amelie as I pay you back? I'm the only one working right now."

"It will take you longer."

"I understand that. But she... she wants to go to school. She's smart. Smart enough to go. But... I don't want her to know about this, don't want her to have to worry about the bills. I told her if she could get into a school, I'd support her. I know it's a lot to ask, that it'll delay you getting your money back..."

The man wasn't smiling now. He looked almost perplexed. As if he didn't expect Vince to concede to his demand so easily, much less make a request of his own. Vince knew he and his sister were both considered unusually attractive. Golden, they were called, with their honeyed skin, eyes of a striking amber shade, and blonde hair with an unquestionably yellow cast to it. They had been fending off unwanted advances since the first turns of puberty.

He could have been a model. Now he was going to be a whore.

"Come here," the man commanded. Something inside Vince bristled, wanting to disobey on principle, but he couldn't afford to anger this man. Reluctantly he stepped forward, closer when the man indicated. When he was close enough, the man reached out and gripped his chin. The touch should have been personal, but it felt clinical as the man turned his head this way and that, looking at him from every angle. Up close, Vince could see the man's eyes were a dark blue, shadowed behind thick, dark lashes. Though most girls would be envious of such long, full eye adornment, they were an oddly pretty feature in an otherwise powerfully masculine face. Strong nose, sharp brows, a chiseled jawline. The realization that this man was actually strikingly handsome almost blindsided Vince. His business, his control of Vince's family, and what he was demanding had made him ugly in Vince's eyes. But he wasn't. Finally he released Vince's chin, and Vince backed up to where he had started.

"Have you been with a man before?" the man asked.

Vince could feel his temper rising and stamped it down. He was going to be whoring for this man--it kind of did give him the right to ask.

"No," he admitted through clenched teeth.

"You know that I'll be giving you to men."

Clenching his fists and forcing himself to breathe before he answered, Vince replied, "I'm aware."

The man tapped a long finger against his face thoughtfully. "Strip."

"Now? Here?" Surely he hadn't nearly squeaked those out.

"Now," the man confirmed, something in his tone making it clear that he wasn't playing.

Vince let out a shaky breath but decided not to test this man's patience. He pulled off his shirt, pushing his too-long bangs out of his eyes. He had been meaning to cut his hair for weeks--it was long enough to push back behind his ears and frame his face, the longest layers brushing his collar, but he hadn't been able to justify the expense of going somewhere to get it cut, and last time he and Amelie had tried it... well... the less said about it, the better. At least when it came to his body, he had nothing to be ashamed of.

"All of it," the man demanded when Vince hesitated at his pants.

He undid his pants, then pushed them and his briefs down to the floor, toeing out of his shoes and stepping out of it all together. He stood only in his socks, which made him feel sillier than being totally naked, so he quickly stripped them off to add them to his pile of clothing.

The man stood up for the first time and walked over to him. He was broader in the shoulders than Vince, and had a good two inches on him. He gave Vince's naked body openly calculating looks, walking a slow circle around him before coming to a stop toe-to-toe, placing a possessive hand on Vince's hip. "I need you to understand something now, Vincent Safinov--you are mine now." He ran the hand up Vince's side to his chest, flicking Vince's nipple, watching his reaction closely as Vince sucked in a tiny breath, before rubbing it with his thumb purposefully. Vince writhed a little and began to step back when the man's other hand grabbed his dick in a firm grip. Without meaning to, Vince's hands rose to push the man away, but he pinched the nipple he'd been playing with and stroked Vince's dick with sure, strong strokes. "That means I will touch you however I wish, whenever I wish. You will obey my every word." He released nipple to run his hand down Vince's side and around to his ass, gripping it at the same time he scraped a nail just under the head of Vince's cock, wringing a gasp from him. The hand moved quickly, confidently to his crease and his fingers began brush over Vince's asshole. He shuddered--the intimate touch felt good, or it would if his mind and his body weren't at war. The man moved his hand, a finger beginning to play with his slit even as a finger began to push on his asshole. "That means if I decide you must always be filled, you must always be filled. You will go where I tell you, fuck"--He pushed the tip of a finger into Vince's hole--"who I tell you, dress as I tell you. You have agreed to this in place of your sister's freedom and in order to continue supporting her. Do you understand?" he demanded, tightening his fist painfully around Vince, who went up on his toes, torn between trying to get away and seeking touch.

"I understand!" he gasped, and the stranglehold on his cock loosened. Without much warning, the man released him and stepped back, forcing Vince to take a step to gain his balance. The memory of those hands touching him ghosted across his skin, and Vince couldn't resist wrapping his arms around himself a bit. The man went to a sideboard, the type that was used as a liquor cabinet, and began to open and close drawers. He puttered for a minute or two, motioned one of the guards over, handed something to him that Vince couldn't see, then walked back to Vince.

With no hesitation or warning, he grabbed Vince's dick again. "This in particular is mine and will only be put to use as I see fit. If you haven't used it on a woman before now, you won't be doing so any time soon." He then pushed a cool metal ring down the length of Vince's dick, until it came to rest snugly at its base. "This is like a collar, but subtler. You may not remove it under any circumstances. I have an app on my phone that allows me to control it. Right now, it is neutral. You can feel it, but it does not constrict unless you are hard." He began to stroke Vince again, seeming to know exactly how to get him to respond, and shortly, he was hard. He could feel the tightness of the cock ring now as the man continued to stroke him. Within an embarrassingly short time, Vince reached out to grip the man's arms, steadying himself, his hips thrusting into that competent hand, feeling like orgasm was just out of his reach. The man continued to stroke him until he was gasping, sweating, teetering on the absolute edge of orgasm but unable to cross the finish line.

"Please," he begged, unable to stand it, knowing the ring that was seated at the base of his cock was preventing him from coming. "Please let me come."

"You beg so prettily." There was no mistaking the pleasure in the man's voice. "I am your master, lest you forget. I control your very ability to come." He rubbed firmly under the cock head again, and Vince whimpered.

"Please," he begged again.

"Please, what?"

Some part of Vince's mind knew this was conditioning, training, brainwashing, even. At the moment, he didn't much care. "Please, Master. Please let me come."

The man stepped away again, and this time Vince fell to his knees, keening. Part of his mind wanted to reach for that ring and yank it off, but some greater instinct told him not to. He banged his fists on the floor in frustration.

"Very, very good," the man praised, crouching before Vince. He used a firm grip to raise Vince's face again. "I didn't even need to tell you not to touch. It isn't yours anymore. You will not be pleasuring yourself anymore. And any attempt to remove it without my key is likely to render that very fine member of yours... obsolete. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master."

"Very good." He motioned one of the guards forward with his free hand but did not release Vince's face, forcing him to look at the man instead of turn to look at the odd sounds behind him. Then someone rubbed something cold over his asshole, and Vince jumped. He tried to turn to look, but the man held his face firm, hushing him. "Stay very still. Just a little lubrication. Don't worry, my pet." He stroked Vince's face as though he were a pet. "You're safe. Just stay very still."

Something small and thin pressed against his asshole--small enough and thin enough to meet virtually no resistance, despite the tension Vince couldn't help. The person behind him continued to push it in. Vince could barely feel the thin thing, but he could feel it continue to slide past his hole and into his body-- _how fucking deep were they pushing it?_

"This will feel weird. Try to relax," the man said after what must have been close to five minutes of feeding the thing into him. Suddenly, warmth began to fill him, and Vince began to struggle again. "Hush," the man said, placing the hand that didn't still have his chin gripped on Vince's shoulder. "You are being cleaned out. Don't worry, you should only have to do this once."

Liquid was filling Vince's bowels--he could feel it, feel it begin to bloat him. It was uncomfortable to say the least, moving into painful. He whimpered, ready to pull away regardless of the cost when it began to lessen. When it was gone, a humming, suctioning sound going off briefly before the thing is removed from him, Vince's arms and legs shook.

"Well done," the man praised again, and a little warmth built in his chest despite his best intentions. "Now you are clean, and we have placed a micrograte within you. It will fully sterilize and turn any waste into a micropowder. A quick rinse--nowhere near this thorough--once every few months should be all you need." Vince can feel his eyes widen in shock even as the man chuckles. "Of course, you'll probably clean yourself more often than that. It's too deep to affect any seminal fluid."

 _Seminal fluid?_ Vince wondered, feeling really stupid when he made the connection. He was going to be a whore. Apparently, men were going to come in him. He shuddered.

Something else small pressed at his ass, and he was shushed and soothed as it went in, this time nowhere as deep. Then it began to expand down its entire length, expanding until the odd discomfort moved into actively uncomfortable--but not, to his surprise, painful. At least, not yet.

Something moved inside the tube stretching him, and for a moment, something _burned_ inside. That did make Vince jerk away, the guard let him, and the man reached out and cradled him. "Hush. The worst is over. A small plate--about the size of your thumb--has been placed, oh, seven inches into you. That plate is connected to your ring. Unless I set it otherwise, that plate will need to be pushed in order to allow you to come."

Vince jerked away from the man's arms, inadvertently sitting on the tube and jumping in discomfort before staring at him in horror.

"Yes, pet. That means anal penetration is now part of your orgasm. And it's deep enough that most fingers will not reach. It will require a toy or a cock."

"How many people have you done this to?" he asked, feeling ill.

"It's not a new technology." He reached out for Vince again, but he pulled just out of reach, wincing at the feel of the tube moving within him. The man frowned. "But I do use it sparingly. Only on my most prized possessions." He reached out again, this time a hardness in his eyes that made it clear he wouldn't tolerate Vince pulling away again. He buried his hand in Vince's hair, using it to pull him back into a position kneeling on all fours, then stroked Vince's head and back as though he were a frightened animal.

Maybe the comparison wasn't entirely inaccurate.

The man motioned to the guard behind him, who wasted no time in removing the tube, only to follow it up with something else--something cold and wet that was literally squirted into his ass--it nearly propelled him into the man's arms. "Last one," he soothed, settling Vince back into his position. "This one will simply make your colon and rectum more sensitive--in a good way. They will make anal stimulation much more pleasurable for you." He continued running his hands over Vince's body until the final thing was removed, then the man got up and instructed him to follow. Feeling odd, his ass strangely tender for all that it was empty and hadn't been penetrated by anything thicker than a finger, Vince followed him. The man reseated himself in his chair and motioned to a cushion that Vince hadn't noticed before. "Lay down, feel free to doze," he was instructed. "It takes about two hours for the solution to fully sink in. I have things to do in the meantime."

Vince bit his lip, hesitating until he noticed the man's pointed look. He sighed, stepping up and settling down onto the cushion. He had to curl up to fit, but it was surprisingly comfortable, raised up a bit so that it put his head in the man's reach. He did reach down, stroking Vince's hair. 

"Good," he said. "Rest. We'll have time to play later this evening."

To Vince's surprise, it didn't take long for him to drop off, the stress of his ordeal catching up. 

* * *

  
The Safinov boy had been asleep for about an hour when Jacob stepped in. He paused, taking in the naked, sleeping boy, before sighing. 

"You just couldn't resist, could you?" Jacob asked, resigned. 

Gareth shrugged. "He offered himself in place of his sister. How could I refuse?"

"You've coveted that kid since he was, what, thirteen?"

Feeling his own lip curl in a smug grin, Gareth replied, "I've been patient."

Jacob rubbed his forehead, stepping forward to hand him a file. "I guess so."

"I did offer to forgive his parents' debt if they would sell him to me."

"And in retaliation, you increased their interest. Now that they're dead, the kid couldn't hope to pay you back any other way."

Gareth simply shrugged again. "You act surprised. It's not like I haven't done this before. Why is this one, this boy, different?"

Jacob was quiet for a moment, clearly gathering his thoughts. "The others have always been business transactions. This one, he's always been different. He's not business--he's pleasure."

Only supreme self-control kept Gareth from stroking himself through his pants in anticipation. Yes, this boy was pure pleasure. His sister would have done in a pinch, but Gareth preferred the male form over female. There was such incredible pleasure to be found in teaching a man to enjoy submitting, to enjoy being filled. His cock twitched in his pants, imagining that golden boy laid out before him, impaled, writhing in pleasure. 

_Soon_ , he told himself, glancing over the sleeping youth. He wasn't really a _boy_ anymore. Nearly twenty, his shoulders likely spanned their full breadth, fit in the way an athletically inclined young man was--long and lithe. He would likely fill out a bit more over the next few years as the last vestiges of youth gave way to adulthood. Fine, golden stubble lined his cheeks, almost invisible, and he had a healthy bush crowning his cock. No, not a child, though Gareth would have enjoyed being able to make some serious cash off him when he was younger, but he would be exceptionally marketable regardless. 

It almost irked him that he was going to have to share the beautiful young man. 

"If he's pleasure, that's my business."

Jacob sighed. "Just be careful with this one."

"Of course," he grinned, turning his attention to the papers he'd been handed. Paper had its own risks, but Gareth preferred it to digital records. Digital could be stolen, go missing too easily, be difficult to truly destroy. For a man who had his hands in as many illegal pies as Gareth, physical records were safer. 

He glanced to the side, running his eyes along his new pet's form a last time before he settled in to work.

* * *

"Wake up, my pet." A hand stroked down the length of his side, and the voice was surprisingly gentle as Vince swam up from sleep. 

He went to stretch, and nearly fell off his cushion before he began to remember. Vince pulled away from the man--his master--as he remembered. 

"Sleep well?" 

The solicitous question shouldn't have made Vince nervous, but it did. "Yes," he admitted. 

"Good. My work is done. Now it is time for us to play."

Vince curled into himself a little, just out of the man's reach, eyes searching what was best described as a throne room, seeing the guards set in unobtrusive places. 

"Don't worry about them. You'll get over your shame soon enough."

That was probably, horribly true. Vince took a deep breath, rubbing the sleep from his eyes to buy himself a little time. 

"Come, array yourself before me." Vince moved in front of the man, but hesitated, unsure of what he wanted precisely when he said array. 

Seeming to understand Vince's hesitance, the man stood up, pushing him back to the center of the room. He set his hands on Vince's shoulders gently pushing him down. "When I say array, kneel. You can sit on your heels." He stepped between Vince's legs, spreading them almost uncomfortably wide, putting his genitals on display. Stupidly, heat rushed to Vince's face, but he didn't resist as his shoulders were pushed back, his arms guided behind him, and his chin lowered, so he was looking down. "This is what I mean." He pushed Vince's thighs a bit wider still, and something must have given away his discomfort. "Not as flexible as I'd like," the man noted, but he didn't sound upset. He ran a hand over Vince's cheek. "You will keep clean shaven. You can probably usually get away with stubble since it's so golden, it's nearly invisible, but few are interested in stubbly whores. And I have a yoga instructor on my staff. You will be spending at least two hours a day with her to improve your flexibility. I will give you her number and tell her to expect you tomorrow. You will report to her at eight a.m., am I clear?"

"Yes," Vince said. His chin was jerked up, forcing him to look the man in the eye. 

"Yes, what, pet?"

Vince hesitated then said, "Yes, Master."

The man smiled, releasing him. "You learn quickly. You will also be learning massage therapy. Your ability to use your hands well in addition to superior flexibility will help you bring top dollar."

"My job--"

"You will be quitting, of course. You belong to me, and as such, I will be your source of income."

"But--If I work on the side--"

This time the man grabbed his hair to force his head back. "You will not be selling yourself to anyone I do not indicate. And I will not risk you injuring yourself in that construction site. Remember, you. Are. Mine. I own you. Am I clear?"

"Yes," Vince choked out. 

"Yes?" the man hissed, demanding. 

"Yes, Master," Vince conceded. He was released and resettled in the original position he'd been placed, hoping to placate the man. 

"Let me be clear--if you begin giving me money from a source I do not provide, I will stop supporting your sister."

"I understand, Master."

"I think you do." He stepped away, going back to the sideboard, getting something. He came back, placed a small pot of a clear-looking liquid in front of Vince, then stepped away, going back to his chair. 

Vince chanced looking up through his bangs, and asked, "Master?"

"You may have never been with a man before, but do you know how men fuck, do you not?"

Was he supposed to answer that? "U... up the..."

"Ass, pet. Dicks are going to be put in your ass."

Feeling heat rise to his cheeks again, Vince looked down. 

"Oh, I will miss that blush when it's gone," the man said mournfully. "But do you know the details beyond the bare basics?"

"You... you need a lube."

The man hummed and added, "And, especially with those new to the experience, stretching. Preparation. At some point, I am sure you'll no longer need that step, but for now, I want you to prepare yourself for me."

Shocked, Vince stared at the man. "You want me to--"

"Finger yourself open for my pleasure before I fuck you, yes." He practically purred the last word. "That is what I want. And do your best to put on a show. The lube is in front of you."

Suddenly, what he had agreed to was very real. Real in a way even the earlier violations hadn't been. He'd been able to somehow detach himself from those. But this, making a sexual spectacle of himself, touching himself in this way he'd never been touched for the explicit pleasure of another, it made his stomach roll a bit. 

"I'm waiting, pet. Start with one finger, lube it, reach behind yourself. It will stretch your spine back appealingly and allow me to see."

Shaking, Vince dipped a forefinger into the pot. His finger trembled as he touched the the silky-slimy liquid, and he took a shaky breath.

"Coat it liberally, then move the pot aside." Vince followed the instructions as if on autopilot, continuing to follow the sensual, commanding voice of his master. "Reach behind you. Yes, arch your back to reach. Circle your hole a bit, then dip in--don't close your thighs. Keep them open. Press in again, deeper. _Deeper_."

It didn't hurt. One finger was... odd. He felt full, but it also tickled a little. 

"Begin to thrust. In and out. Don't forget to breathe, pet. Push all the way in, then press against your ring. You need to stretch it, so press on it."

When he did, Vince gasped. That was different. That felt... good. He pulled against his ring again, and a little frizzle of pleasure ran through him. 

"Feels good, yes?" The man's voice barely registered. "That's the result of the last solution. Sensitizes those nerves, make them respond to stimulation as pleasure. Time for the next finger, I think. Get more lube."

Vince did so, realizing only distantly that he was getting hard. He was actually a little eager to see how good two fingers felt if one felt this good. His body resisted two fingers more than one, but a little bit of pressure, and they went in. Oh, wow. He pushed them apart, stretching his ring, and a full-body shudder went through him. 

"Look at me, pet. Don't forget about me. You're doing this for _my_ pleasure, not yours."

When he looked up through his eyelashes, Vince was surprised to see he was obviously affecting the man. Though his legs were crossed, a hand was in his lap, stroking the tent there lazily. His gaze was searing. It was a little surprising, and strangely empowering, to see how much he was affecting this man. He stretched his fingers wide, letting a breathy, soft moan out.

"Yes," the man purred, apparently sensing Vince's strange confidence. "You are exquisite." The man let out a long, slow breath, visibly controlling himself. "Next finger, pet."

He reached his hand into the pot, getting more lube, then reached behind again. Three fingers felt like much more than two, took more force to slide in. The angle was decidedly awkward for three. The fullness was intense. It burned a little, stung, just this side of painful. 

"In deep, pet," the man commanded, as Vince breathed through the discomfort. "Curl your fingers, pet, you should be able to reach your prostate." 

When he found it, Vince almost lost his balance. He thought it felt good before? He curled his fingers again, searching out that feeling, and moaned, trembling, when he did. His cock leaped, and he reached down subconsciously to stroke his cock. 

"Ah, ah, ah," the man warned. "Not yours to touch." With a moan of complaint, Vince let his hand fall to the side, leaving his cock untouched. "Eyes on me, pet."

Vince refocused on the man, surprised to see that he had bared his cock and was now stroking it openly as he watched Vince. 

"Deeper, pet." The man's voice was getting deeper, rougher. "Stretch those fingers wide. Open yourself for me."

He continued to speak, talking Vince through opening himself. Vince didn't know how long it continued, but he could not remember ever being so turned on. He was so close, but it wasn't enough. He couldn't get over the edge. 

"Please, please, Master," he panted. 

The whole time, the man had been stroking himself lazily, as if he could do it all day. 

"It's time, pet. Come here."

It took two tries to stand up, but he managed it. He felt stretched, weirdly open, now that he'd taken out his fingers. The feeling of having been filled lingered, like an unscratched itch. He almost put his fingers back inside to make that odd emptiness go away.

When he stood before the man, Vince hesitated. The man had opened his legs, displaying his own cock, which looked much larger up close than it had halfway across the room, but the chair--throne, really--he sat in had arms, and Vince wasn't sure what he wanted. 

"Turn around, pet. Sit on my lap," the man commanded.

Feeling a little silly, he did as told, and was pulled firmly onto the man's lap. He could feel the weight and warmth of the man's cock against his back. The man lifted one of Vince's thighs, and Vince let him, allowing the leg to be lifted over the arm of the chair.

When the man moved to do the same with his other leg, Vince did it first, which left him feeling stretched, exposed. Two guards appeared to melt from the shadows, bringing a large, full-length mirror forward. Ashamed, Vince looked away, but the man began to stroke his cock and forced him to face the mirror. 

"Absolutely exquisite, my pet. You will be coveted by all. Keep your eyes on the mirror, pet. I don't want you to miss this." As he spoke, he stroked Vince, his other hand wandering down to play with a nipple. 

It was difficult to reconcile the man in the mirror with himself. He looked like some debauched, fallen angel, golden and sweaty and tempting. Spread as if begging to be taken. 

"Lift up, pet." The man helped lift his hips up, balancing on the chair arms, until he was directly over the man's cock. The man's hands left him entirely, leaving Vince to use his thighs to keep himself up. "If you want to come, pet, you will have to take me in. Let yourself down."

Even though his thighs were burning, Vince couldn't bring himself to do it. This was nothing he had ever wanted for himself. Nothing he'd ever imagined. 

"Pet," the man warned. "This is your choice. You made this decision to spare your sister. Are you going back on it now?"

Vince shook his head. 

"Then watch as you take in your first cock, pet. Watch as your body swallows it, embraces it. You are still so hard." He took Vince's cock and rubbed firmly under the head, drawing a whimper from Vince. "I will not force you though." Vince whined as the hand fell away from his cock. "Your choice. But if you do this, it will be your last choice."

But at what price would that choice come? His sister would be the price for that choice. He could not, _would_ not condemn Amelie to this. He gripped the chair arms to give himself more control and began to lower himself down on that large cock.

"Watch, pet." The man lifted his cock and balls so he could clearly see the head pressing against his hole, his voice gone rough. "Watch as you make your choice. Open up for me."

The head was so much larger than his fingers had been. Vince continued to let his body weight push down, and finally, the head popped in, and a huge shudder wracked his body, nearly causing him to drop all his body weight down, but the man helped to support him.

"That was good, pet, so good. Take it slow." He caressed Vince's low abdomen. "Take me in, and watch, pet." 

Vince licked his lips, leaning back a little, allowing his weight to rest on the man behind him, then let himself down further. He took deep, slow breaths as he let himself down further, watching in the mirror as that impressive member pressed him open and in deep. It bumped his prostate, making his cock jump, making him a little eager again. When he was halfway down, he stopped.

"It's too much," he protested. "I can't."

"You can," the man assured. "And you will, if you want to come again. I'm not deep enough to reach your trigger yet. You won't be able to come without it. Try lifting up and back down a bit."

He didn't say anything, but did as suggested. It allowed him to take another inch or two in. Fuck, the man must be a full ten inches. Without warning, the man gripped his hips, and pulled him down, fully burying himself in Vince. As he did it, he touched something deep within Vince, something that caused his cock ring to loosen, and with no warning, without being touched, Vince threw his head back and came harder than he had ever before. 

How long he floated in a post-orgasm haze, Vince wasn't sure, but when he came back to himself, he was still impaled fully on the man's cock. The fullness, the depth of the stretch were new, so much deeper than he'd been able to reach himself. He was so full. 

"Back with me, pet?"

Dumbly, Vince nodded. 

"Excellent," the man replied, and almost made the word sound like a threat as he caressed Vince's abdomen, as if feeling himself through Vince's skin. "You may have come, pet, but I have not. And I want to make you come on my cock again."

With that, he began to thrust, and it changed from a sensation of mere fullness to outright pleasure. It didn't take long for his cock to begin to respond again, and when he wanted to reach for it, the man trapped his hands instead, stretching them back to lace them behind his master's head. It left Vince with no choice but to ride out the pounding he was getting.

It was impossible to deny how good it felt. The man took his time as well, as if giving Vince a preview of all the different ways it could feel good. Long, slow thrusts that seemed to go even deeper, left him feeling so full, and quick, sharp jabs straight at his prostate that would have sent him over the edge if only the man would just fuck him deep enough. He would pull almost all the way out to thrust in with enough force to make him want to scream. All the while, he would tease with touches, playing with Vince's balls, his cock, his nipples. Once, he even slipped a finger in beside his cock and pressed hard on Vince's prostate. Vince had thrashed in response, trying to impale himself deeper to get the press on his button to allow him to come, but the man held him firm, cock only half in, immovable. And finally, finally, he had enough, and began quick, deep thrusts, a particularly hard one rubbing his prostate and finally sending Vince over the edge again, his cock long abandoned. The man followed behind him, and Vince could swear he could feel the heat as the come coated him inside. His cock twitched and tried to spit out a last dribble of come at the sensation.

The man was panting, which made Vince feel a little vindicated. At least he wasn't the only one affected by what they'd done.

"So, my pet, how did it feel to be fucked by a man?"

He wanted to lie. Say it had been a horrible violation. Maybe later it would feel like one. Right now, he was floating on the crazy endorphins. "Amazing," he admitted.

The man laughed, causing the softening member still buried in Vince to jiggle and rub against his oversensitized prostate.

"Too much," he hissed, wriggling. The man let him ease off, and Vince found out the hard way that his legs had been replaced by spaghetti--into a puddle of his own come on the floor. Ew, he thought. And he could feel the come leaking out of him a little, which was not a pleasant feeling either.

"Come here, pet. Clean me."

"Huh?" His brain still wasn't entirely connected after the intense orgasm. Fortunately, the man didn't seem to mind, and tapped his lap.

"With your mouth, pet. Clean me off."

His expression must have displayed his thoughts because the man chuckled again. "Surely you don't think you'll only be using one orifice?"

"But... you were just...."

"In your ass? Your ass, which had already been cleaned. The lube is safe to ingest as well. Now stop being squeamish and come clean me off."

Resigned, Vince scooted forward, between the man's spread legs. Though the scent of come was thick, it didn't otherwise smell bad as he neared it. He stuck out his tongue a little bit to lap it. It wasn't repulsive, but it didn't taste good. A little salty, a little bitter, a little slimy in texture, but he thought that was as much residual lube as anything. With a sigh, he took a second lick. Much the same, but not unbearable.

The man chuckled. "Should I call you a kitten now? You're lapping so delicately." He threaded his hand into Vince's hair and used the grip to pull him farther forward, though he wasn't harsh about it. "Take it into your mouth properly, kitten."

Vince made a face, partially at the nickname, partially at the demand, but he opened his mouth to accept the cock before it was forced. It was large, heavy, warm, velvety on his tongue. The man stroked his hair encouragingly as he took as much as he could into his mouth. Even soft, it was a rather impressive organ, and Vince wasn't able to take much in.

"That's it," the man encouraged, gently pulling him off, "Lick up the sides. Clean the whole thing."

Without further argument, Vince leaned forward to do just that, licking it like an overly large popsicle. As he did so, with broad, long swipes of his tongue, he noticed the man getting hard again. As if to confirm the state, the man hummed in pleasure.

"Well done, kitten, but now it's time to finish what you've started." He used the hand still in Vince's hair to pull him back and his free hand to guide the his cock toward Vince's mouth.

Resisting at this point seemed stupid. Vince opened his mouth and allowed his head to be guided to the swollen member. It filled his mouth more, was noticeably thicker than when it had been soft. It was almost uncomfortable just to wrap his mouth around it--how the hell had it fit... well, inside him?

The man seemed content to merely direct his head at first, thrusting shallowly.

"A natural," he commented, voice gone deep again. "I don't have to tell you to watch your teeth, you suck well, move your tongue well. I look forward to when you'll be able to take me all the way down your throat."

Vince could feel his eyes grow wide, started by the idea. The man moved his hand to the back of Vince's neck to better control him. "Probably not today, kitten. But it is something you will be working on. Today, I just want to push your limits a little. Let me control how deep you take me."

Vince wanted to object, made a protesting sound around the dick in his mouth, but that just made it--if anything--even harder.

"Trust me, kitten," he said as he continued with his shallow thrusts. "I will push you, but I will not harm you."

What choice did Vince have?

"Such a good kitten," the man praised, running his free hand through Vince's hair again. "A little deeper now. Start swallowing like you're taking a drink." He pushed forward, farther this time, using the grip on Vince's neck to keep him from pulling away, giving him no real option but to attempt to swallow as instructed. He was drooling quite a bit, so it wasn't hard. Slowly, inexorably, the man pushed more of his cock into Vince's mouth, till it touched the back of his throat. Vince's gorge rose, but he managed to fight it down as the man backed off. After a minute, the man pushed forward again. Again, he backed off as Vince began to gag. "Put your hand in a fist around your thumb and press down. Some people find it helps."

However stupid that piece of advice sounded, it didn't hurt to try. This time, when the man pressed forward, he actually slid into Vince's throat a few inches.

"Oh, kitten, you are perfect," he said, sounding inordinately pleased as he pulled back, then thrust forward again, deeper this time. No gag reflex, but the large dick did seem to completely fill Vince's throat. He reached up to grasp the man's thighs. "Shhh... you're doing spectacular. Make that fist again."

Reluctant, Vince decided it was better than possibly throwing up on this man and making him angry. He made the fist again, took the moment he was given to catch his breath, then the man pulled him forward again. That massive cock slid with no resistance into his throat, then pulled out again. The man didn't linger, instead beginning to thrust in earnest now that he apparently didn't need to worry about going too deep. Indeed, each time he pulled Vince back, he was pulling him a little farther forward, penetrating Vince's throat a little deeper. He began to thrust faster, and Vince kept his fist held tight as he was pulled fully forward, his nose buried in the man's pubic hair, and held there as he grunted and came directly down Vince's throat. He had literally no choice but to swallow, and kept his fist desperately clenched. When he was released, he pulled off, a hand going to his throat, which felt like it had been rubbed by sandpaper. He coughed a bit against the irritation, but otherwise was fine. He was so fine, it made his stomach turn a little.

The man watched him with obvious pleasure in his eyes. "So perfect, kitten. You were made for this," he said, which made Vince's stomach turn even more. The man tucked himself away, then pulled Vince forward to rest his head against a thigh, running his hand through Vince's hair in a way that was oddly soothing. "You will stay here with me tonight. I've not had my fill of you."

"But," Vince began, internally wincing at how hoarse his voice was, "my sister."

"Your sister is safe. You will certainly be able to--"

"No, she'll be worried about me."

"You'll call her then and let her know you are staying with a friend. You will be home tomorrow for lunch."

Vince looked away, not liking the idea of lying to Amelie.

"Kitten, unless you want your sister to know the cost of her freedom and her education, you will be lying to her. You should accustom yourself to it."

"I understand," he said when it was clear an answer was expected. The man raised an eyebrow. Vince closed his eyes and said, "I understand, Master."


	2. Anniversary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Color me officially overwhelmed at the response from this. More for you lovelies (especially because this week has sucked and it's only Wednesday).

__

December

__

  
Vince glared at his phone and the message on it.

//One year today. Usual place. 6 pm. Dress up.//

He deleted the text and set the phone aside. Gareth, his master, didn't need a response. It wasn't as though he could refuse. He just wished it wasn't three days before Amelie's birthday. She had her first round of senior finals coming up and was freaking out--not to mention the time of year and the anniversary of their mother's death--the thing that had propelled him into this situation in the first place. He'd be better off going to "their" place to get ready for the date. "Their" place being an apartment--a stupidly luxurious apartment--that Gareth supplied to him as a place to allow Gareth to be with him freely, for him to keep things like gifts and clothing he wouldn't otherwise be able to explain to his sister. He also occasionally took clients there. Not often, but sometimes. Gareth insisted it was a gift, part of the tools required for his trade. Two bedroom--the oversized master he usually used with Gareth and the rare client--and the room he kept his clothing in and usually slept in if he didn't go home. As sinful as the king in the master suite was, Vince didn't like sleeping in it if Gareth wasn't there. Even though a service cleaned the apartment and changed the bedding daily, Vince always felt like he could smell sex in the room.

Amelie wasn't going to be happy to be blown off tonight. They were supposed to have a movie marathon night--a last night of destressing before she really had to lock in for her finals.

He had told her he had landed a well-paying position as a personal assistant, but it meant he was on-call almost all the time. And his employer was a night owl, so he mostly worked nights. Since they no longer worried about bills, including what they would do about Amelie's tuition when she started college the following fall, and had still had enough for a new apartment, Amelie rarely complained. The new apartment had come because Gareth had insisted his kitten not live in such a bad neighborhood--if that meant moving his sister, well, they could consider it part of her tuition. They'd found a new apartment on campus that would put Amelie in walking distance, and, not coincidentally, Vince in easier reach.

He decided to finish prepping his casserole. Aside from extensive yoga, a good amount of dance--exotic, which wasn't surprising, but also contemporary and _ballroom_ \--and massage therapy classes, Gareth had also had him work with a chef learning how to cook. Some of his clients enjoyed the subservience of being cooked and cared for.

Whatever. It made taking care of Amelie easier, and he enjoyed employing the new skill for her benefit. If she didn't like how often he had to be out in the evenings, well, she'd live.

Glancing at the clock, he probably had about an hour before he needed to be at the apartment to get ready. It didn't really take him long, but he'd probably take a shower and blow-dry his hair. He didn't usually bother with the latter. Once his hair had gotten long enough, he figured out pretty quickly that if he tossed it in a braid while damp, it had both a nice, touchable wave to it, and generally kept it under control. Before that first night had ended, he had been forbidden from cutting his hair. A year later, it fell in layers to his shoulder blades, long bangs framed his face, parted to one side so they swept across his forehead. He usually tucked the longest sweep behind his ear. He had to admit, it did look good on him, so at least it wasn't just a pure kink on Gareth's side.  
  
When Amelie got home, she stopped in the kitchen just as he was pushing the casserole back into the oven. She paused in the act of putting her bookbag down to frown at him. "You're going out tonight, aren't you?" she asked.

He nearly slammed the door to the oven he was so surprised. "Well, yes," he admitted, standing up and staring. "How could you tell?"

She sat her bag down on the counter and frowned. "I just can. You get all tense when you have to go into work," she admitted, sitting at the small peninsula. "Vince... if you really hate your job that much... you know we don't need a place this nice. And there are lots of loans and grants I can apply for--"

He reached over the counter to pat her on the head, which he knew she hated, but at least it stopped her. 

"You don't need to worry about it," he assured, giving a gentle tug to a long blonde lock. "Working for someone eccentric can be irritating, but it's worth it," he told her honestly. To him, it _was_ worth it. Worth her not having to worry about their debt, not having to lose her innocence, worth her being able to have a future. Vince was nothing but a pretty face and a decent work ethic. He had never been especially interested in school, never been better than a C student. He'd been working since he was fourteen to help his mother try to keep up with the incredible bills they'd incurred when his father had gotten sick and then eventually died. School had seemed nothing but an obstacle that interrupted time he could be working. 

Now he had a job where he could both work toward alleviating that debt and providing a future free of it for his sister. So it was distasteful. It wasn't a path he would have willingly chosen. And because Gareth wouldn't provide any details of the debt he was owed and little about how much he was managing to pay it down, he suspected it wouldn't be one that he'd easily get away from. It was all worth it if Amelie was free. Having lived more than half of his life in crippling debt, he would happily pay this price to allow her to go to school debt-free. 

"But you're gone so much." It was more of a statement of fact then a complaint. "And sometimes... sometimes you look so... worn."

"You worry too much." He gave another quick tug, then turned back to the sink where he finished cleaning up the remains of his _mise en place_. "Maybe tomorrow night?" he offered.

"Okay," she conceded, her voice soft.

When he left forty-five minutes later, he still felt like a jerk.

* * *

The door to the apartment opened at precisely six o'clock. Vince vaguely wondered if Gareth got there early and stared at his watch in order to arrive at exactly the stated time. 

Vince had been drinking a glass of water in the open kitchen. Though luxurious, the apartment wasn't overly large. It was open concept, with the living room, small dining area, and kitchen all being open to one another. It looked like a place out of a magazine rather than a home someone actually lived in. 

Gareth gave Vince thorough elevator eyes, taking in the suit--a rich navy that set off his complexion and was Gareth's favorite--with a white shirt and a blue tie. His hair was down, styled, straighter than he usually wore it, but softly framing his features. After whoring himself for a year, Vince was intimately aware of how to appear to best show off his features. Judging from the heat in Gareth's eyes, he'd done well this time.

"Beautiful," Gareth complimented, moving into the room and making a beeline for Vince, stepping immediately into his space and placing a hand on his hip. With his other hand, he lifted Vince's chin--he had a definite _thing_ about manhandling him--and seemed to find pleasure in simply examining Vince's features. 

Vince looked away, not meeting his eyes. "Good evening, Master," he greeted, ignoring the compliment. Gareth was pressed tightly enough against him that Vince could feel him grow hard in his pants. 

"My exquisite gem. I'm afraid I have need of your services before we go out to celebrate." He took the hand on that had been on Vince's hip and used it to guide one of Vince's hands to the bulge in his pants. "I will never get through dinner without throwing you across the table without some relief."

More than a little familiar with the implied command, Vince gently shifted the man until he was the one leaning against the counter, then Vince gracefully dropped to his knees, not hesitating in the least to open Gareth's pants and pull out his member. Even Vince's light touch made Gareth harden fully. He lapped at the head for only a moment or two, getting it damp so it would go in easier. Then he took a deep breath and dove in, swallowing the entire member down to the root, causing Gareth to clench a fist in his hair and throw his head back. 

"God, yes!" He began to thrust, rough, aiming to get off quickly, not be teased. Vince really didn't have to do anything other than keep his teeth out of the way, try not to drool, and manage his breathing as the thick cock could completely block his throat. He watched for the signs of Gareth's imminent orgasm and managed to pull in a deep breath as he swallowed the cock for the final time, and Gareth clutched his head to his crotch, keeping himself buried entirely as he came down Vince's throat. 

Vince held his breath as best he could until the need for air began to become insistent. He tapped rapidly on Gareth's thigh, and the man reluctantly released him to pull off. It had been close, and Vince gasped, huffing as he got more air back to his lungs. As he calmed, he felt Gareth petting his hair, probably soothing the musses back into place. Gareth particularly enjoyed that he could utterly debauch Vince, then have him appear as if nothing had happened within minutes. 

"Well done, kitten." That stupid nickname had stuck, but at least only Gareth used it. His clients called him Aurum. "Stand up, pull your pants down, and bend over," he instructed. 

It took more self-control than Vince would have liked not to either sigh or roll his eyes, but he did neither, following the instructions perfunctorily, knowing to open his legs as much as his bunched pants would allow. He wore no underwear. Gareth enjoyed knowing he had nothing but a single layer of clothing to cover him. As Gareth was the one who held his contract and was his best and most frequent "customer," what Gareth wanted was pretty much what Vince did. 

Gareth ran a hand up under the back of his shirt, before sliding it down to caress Vince's ass, then pulled his cheeks apart, admiring his hole. He slipped a finger in--Vince generally kept himself lubed as a matter of course these days--and pressed downward, testing his ring. It gave easily, opening up as if eager for more. As Gareth had predicted that first night, he really had no need of prep these days--at least not if all he was taking was a cock, even a particularly large one. Gareth relented for a moment, and Vince let out a soft sigh, which quickly turned to a groan as Gareth pressed down again, much harder than before, stretching him to the point that it even burned a bit. Vince's cock twitched, hardening. He couldn't say for sure how attracted he had been to men before--if he would have ever considered doing this with one, if he would have enjoyed it--but given his response, he suspected that he would have. He had been so consumed with work and his family, he hadn't thought about it much then, but he didn't think all of the pleasure he felt in having has ass stretched and teased was the result of Gareth's manipulations. 

"So perfect." Gareth pulled his finger out, and Vince let himself whine a little at the loss. It had been a tease to begin playing with him, only to pull away, and Gareth liked to know that he enjoyed it. Gareth pulled something out of his pocket and placed it on the counter. The box looked like the type an expensive bracelet might come in, but Vince doubted that was what it contained. Sure enough, when Gareth snapped it open, Vince saw that it wasn't a bracelet, but a ring, something that looked like a curved stopper, and a fine, golden chain. He groaned, this time in dread. There was a small tube of lube in the case as well--one that was sterile. Gareth chuckled softly as Vince hid his face in his arms, then reached between Vince's legs to grab his half-hard dick. He took the little lube, pulled off the cap, then slid the tip into Vince's slit, squeezing to apply the lube into his urethra. That done, he pulled the stopper-looking thing--a urethral plug--out and wasted no time sliding it into Vince. The curved length went easily until the stopper--a ball the size of a marble, touched the head. Manipulating Vince's cock, playing with the sound, pulling it in and out, pushing the ball into the tiny orifice more and more until it finally sunk entirely in, stretching the opening uncomfortably. Vince panted through the manipulations, knowing better than to resist or try to pull away. Through the play, he'd gotten harder, and the curve of the rod filling more than half his cock hurt, forcing the hard member into an unnatural position. The little ring was forced over the head of his cock, nestling behind the flare of his cock head. Vince knew there would be a chain attached to the plug that would keep it from being lost inside. 

Gareth fisted his curved dick, and pressed his thumb against the ball hard, forcing it deeper, making Vince keen. Then he took a paper towel and meticulously cleaned off the excess lube, before taking the chain--really only a couple inches--out of the box. Vince groaned again, suspecting where this was going. Sure enough, Gareth clipped one end of the short chain to his guiche piercing--the ring situated in his perineum the only outward sign other than his cock ring that Gareth had demanded. Then he pulled Vince's already uncomfortably twisted dick back, managing to clip it to the ring under his head, thus keeping his dick locked, basically, between his legs. That was never a good sign. This was something Gareth did when wanting to take him into public, wanting him to be hard but that hardness hidden. He took deep breaths, knowing the worst--or best, depending on your point of view--was yet to come. The stoppered cock meant he wouldn't be able to leak. Even though he couldn't ejaculate without his trigger being applied, he could leak precum. When you weren't wearing underwear, that could be a problem. Then Gareth reached into his pocket again, pulling out two balls, a little larger than golf balls and ornately decorated. 

They looked like Chinese stress balls, though the ringing feature inside had been replaced with a vibrator. They were heavy, slightly textured--enough for Vince to feel at least--and big enough to stimulate his prostate but not his trigger. 

Vince tensed, wanting to protest but knowing that his desire wouldn't be heeded in this. The balls were set on the counter, in his direct line of sight. This was going to be a miserable night. "Keep your eyes on them," Gareth commanded--which invariably meant he planned to do something that would surprise Vince. Vince obeyed, which meant that when a thin rod pressed into him, directly into his prostate, and _vibrated violently_ , he nearly jumped onto the counter. His cock tried to fully harden, unable to due to the curved sound and being linked to his guiche, which pulled on the ever-sensitive piercing, creating a feedback loop that took all thought straight from Vince's mind. Gareth grabbed his cock, pressed hard on the ball stuffed in it, then moved the rod inside him to unerringly hit his trigger. Vince gasped as the orgasm crashed through him but could not find an out outlet. He was left panting, feeling wrung through on the counter as Gareth pulled the rod out, collapsing it down to what appeared to be a normal pen, then examined the tip of his cock. 

"No leaking," he said, sounding more than a little smug. "Perfect." He grabbed the stress balls, then quickly inserted one then the other. "Keep those within you," he commanded absently. 

Still dazed, it took Vince a moment to get enough control of himself to tighten his hole, feeling the balls shift within him as he did so. 

Seemingly satisfied, Gareth reached down and pulled Vince's pants up, a clear signal to stand. Using his forearms to lumber up, Vince stood up slowly, feeling how his cock pulled and the balls shifted within him. He gasped as one pushed against his sensitive prostate, and ended up resting his weight against the counter rather than standing straight. For the moment, Gareth was waiting patiently, but Vince knew his grace periods were short. Bracing himself, he stood up on his own feet, posture ballroom-perfect, fighting the urge to squirm gracelessly at the way the balls shifted again. The whole ordeal had not left Gareth unaffected, judging from the way his pupils virtually swallowed his irises, but the earlier blow job had served its purpose and he wasn't visibly hard. He was old enough to have an actual refractory period. Vince, not so much. 

Vince ran his hands through his hair, resettling it by touch. Breathing under control, legs more or less sturdy, he checked his belt, then nodded. 

Gareth smiled. Part of Vince thrilled at pleasing his master. Part of him loathed himself for it. 

"You are an exceptional find," Gareth praised. 

Yet another comment that didn't require a response. Gareth liked to talk _at_ him instead of _to_ him. 

Sure enough, Gareth glanced at his watch--a Rolex that Vince didn't want to know the price of--and nodded. "Come. If we leave now, we should be right on time."

"Master, may I ask where we're going?" he chanced as Gareth guided him to the door with an arm on his lower back. Gareth pulled Vince's coat out of the closet, along with a scarf, and bundled him up like a child. 

"We're going to Thin Air for dinner."

Thin Air was only one of the best and most exclusive restaurants in the entire city--and within _walking_ distance of the apartment. Vince knew both of those because this was not the first time he'd been put in a similar situation to walk there. 

He wanted to protest, to wail, to argue, to outright refuse. Walking there in his current condition without looking like he was a step away from having an epileptic fit was _torture_. Especially since Gareth had a long gait that he would force Vince to keep pace with. 

_Fucking sadist_.

Well, not a textbook sadist. Vince had spent enough nights with _actual_ sadists--thankfully enough was still blessedly little--to have learned the difference between someone like Gareth and an actual sadist. Gareth's kinks were more about control than pain or humiliation. Vince was convinced if you looked up "control freak" in the dictionary, you'd find a picture of Gareth Delbonis there. He needed the control and the submission, but he didn't need to humiliate or cause pain. Rather, he preferred to use pleasure as his weapon. Like most things with Gareth, that could be both better and worse than the alternative. It was better, because it was intense, mind-blowing pleasure. It was worse because it could be a like a drug he was addicted to--one that only Gareth seemed able to supply him with.

For Gareth, he was often worse than a whore. For Gareth, he was often an outright slut.

Apparently done giving Vince mental time to prep himself, Gareth opened the door, waiting for Vince to lead the way. When Vince hesitated, Gareth grabbed his asscheeks in both hands and squeezed them together, causing the balls within him to shift--right into his prostate, how _did_ he do that?--and Vince to gasp.

"Let's go, kitten," Gareth murmured in his ear, his breath tickling. "Unless you want me to add some vibration to your walk."

 _No_ thank you. Vince began to walk, adapting an upright, literally tight-assed posture that kept the balls from moving quite so much, even if a little zing of pleasure ran through him at nearly every step. It was a regular zing, could be anticipated, even if it made his bound cock ache. And of course, Gareth grabbed his elbow, directing him away from the elevator and toward the stairwell. Four flights of stairs, to be precise.

"Imagine me filling you as you take every step," Gareth said, still tight to his side, his voice far too low to carry, but seemed to intensify Vince's arousal. "Those are not toys shifting within you, kitten, they are a part of your master, filling you, claiming you." He pushed the door to the stairwell open and they both entered, pausing at the top of the stairs. Gareth leaned closer, and murmured, "Owning you."

Vince closed his eyes and moaned softly. His cock was now pulling painfully, trying to fill, stuck, which pulled on his guiche, sending a different pleasure through him.

A hand guided his to the railing, and they began to walk down. There was no keeping the balls somewhat stable while going down four flights of stairs. He was at their mercy. It was made worse by the quick, almost skipping pace Gareth made him keep. By the time they were at the bottom, Vince had to pause to regain some composure. Gareth forced him to stand up straight, which again shifted the balls, made him moan, made him _ache_.

"Oh, kitten," Gareth said, his own voice deep with arousal as caressed Vince's face. Vince could well imagine how he looked--like he was begging to be fucked. "You would strip right here, where anyone could see you, and beg me to fuck you if it would just fill you properly, wouldn't you?"

Despite his best intentions, Vince hissed, " _Yes...."_

"You want me. Want to be filled properly, not by those toys."

"Yes, Master," he readily agreed. "Please, Master."

"You _need_ me. Only I can bring you this much pleasure."

"Only you, Master."

"You want to come, don't you, kitten?"

Vince whimpered, training and experience warring with bodily desire. Training won out. "Only if you want me to, Master."

"I don't want you to yet, kitten. I want you to be so needy, you would lay naked in the center of Thin Air and beg your master to take you."

Vince's cock throbbed again and his ass clenched in anticipation, drawing the balls in deeper--a neat trick he'd learned. They began vibrating without warning, one right next to his prostate, and Vince was forced to grab Gareth to keep from falling over. He shuddered in pleasure, moving his hips, lips parting, eyes falling to half-mast as he worked to pull those balls up, deeper.

"How does it feel, kitten?"

"So good, Master," he gasped.

"As good as me?"

He shook his head furiously. "No. Nothing is as good as you." There was a terrible truth in that statement. Nothing _was_ as good as Gareth. No toy, no other man, not even any woman felt as good as being filled by his master.

The vibrating intensified again, and Vince pulled them in just a little deeper and--

"Ah--" he choked off the cry as he came--orgasm trapped by the plug, cock still bound. The feedback loop trapped him until the vibrating stopped, leaving him gasping, weak-kneed, and having to cling to Gareth to keep from falling.

"Push them down, kitten. Away from your trigger. The next time you come, it will be from my cock, am I clear?"

"Yes, Master." A little concentration, and he pushed the balls back down this time, stopping when he felt one push at his opening.

"Perfect. Now, let's go. We'll have to walk quickly to make our reservation."

Vince groaned again, but Gareth was already out of the stairwell and into the lobby, and he had to walk quickly to keep pace. By the time they made it to Thin Air, he was desperately hard, and though looking at his pants you couldn't tell, he could tell just from the looks he was drawing from the staff that he looked like he needed to be fucked.  
  


* * *

Had Gareth ever owned a more beautiful creature? He wondered as he and his kitten were seated in a discrete booth that had a magnificent view both of the city and the dazzling glass sculptures that graced the interior of the restaurant. His kitten was breathing just a little too heavily, his pupils blown wide, the faintest dusting of a blush across his cheeks. He was temptation incarnate. And people seemed to sense it. Gareth loved being out with his kitten in public like this. Loved watching the covetous eyes follow him, knowing people were imagining him. Knowing they would dream of him, want him. Several would pay a small king's ransom to be with him for even only a night.

Gareth didn't know if his kitten realized he took him out like this as a chance to advertise him. His suits were tailored to highlight every feature--from the perfect taper of his waist, to the spectacular bubble butt--he needed to remember to give Adam a thank you again for pointing out that skater's butt was a real thing. The kitten's long, trim legs, the almost dainty wrists and ankles. He seemed to combine the most alluring of masculine and feminine traits in a single, sinful package. And how much he genuinely enjoyed being fucked? The sums Gareth commanded for him would shock most people. In only a year, ignoring that Gareth did not contribute to paying down his kitten's debt, the young man had nearly made enough to pay it off. Of course, he had no idea. Gareth had no intention of enlightening him either. Besides, he would need to continue working for Gareth in order to fund his sister's schooling. Gareth's cock twitched in his pants just thinking of the years he would continue to have this creature in his bed. Years in which he could tether Vincent Safinov to him so tightly that no one else could satisfy him.

They had a spectacular meal, finished by a decadent dessert. He had used his phone to control the balls within his kitten on and off at varying intensities throughout the meal. It kept a beautiful blush to his skin and his pupils wide. He'd watched as his kitten was subtly eye fucked by a number of other customers. Some of those knew of Gareth, would suspect what his kitten was, would be making discrete requests for appointments.

One man was bold enough to approach. He and Gareth had exchanged pleasantries, then a little doubletalk disguised as sports talk. Ryan Le Roi was not a man to be trifled with, even by someone like Gareth. And he had been deeply intrigued by Gareth's kitten. While they chatted, Gareth turned the vibration on the balls up to their highest setting, knowing Le Roi was watching him out of the corner of his eye. The kitten's back had gone ramrod straight and he dropped his hands to his lap to clasp them tightly, trying to keep the discomfort off his face. He wouldn't so much as brush his trapped cock--Gareth had trained him too well.

A cursory glance would have someone thinking the kitten was merely stiff and uncomfortable, or uptight. As the intense vibration continued past a minute, he went from clenching his hands, to clenching his jaw, to parting his lips and panting softly, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead and above his lip. A tap to Gareth's app had the vibration go from steady, strong vibration with a buzzing that was nearly audible in the quiet restaurant, to a violent beating pulse, the change startling a gasp out of his kitten. Another tap returned it to the intense vibration, but now that the kitten's facade had broken, he was having trouble regaining any control. He moaned softly, closing his eyes, but remarkably, did not rock his hips in a motion that could be conspicuous.

A final tap killed all the vibration and tore a soft version of Gareth's favorite sound from his kitten--the keening, needy sound. The sound he made when deprived, when he desperately needed to be filled to reach completion. Even the soft, restricted version of it affected Le Roi much as it did Gareth.

"Are you all right, boy?" Le Roi asked, as if only noticing the kitten for the first time.

As always, the kitten gathered himself with startling speed. He used the motion of tucking his bangs behind his ear to sweep the sweat from his brow. He then picked up his napkin and elegantly wiped his mouth, cleaning the sweat from his lip as if cleaning stray sauce, and he sat upright.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, sir," he said, though his voice was still thick with arousal, it was steady. "I'm overly sensitive to barometric changes. There must have just been one. I'm fine, thank you."

It was a masterful performance that made Gareth's own cock twitch. Getting a glimpse of what the kitten could hide behind that facade, a taste of what it could be like to have him... his kitten may have just earned a very lucrative new contract.

Le Roi turned his attention abruptly back to Gareth, as if dismissing the "assistant." "We should meet up sometime--sometime soon." Gareth could see the slightest dilation of Le Roi's pupils. "I believe I have an opening in my schedule on Monday evening. I'll have my people get in touch with yours, if that's good for you, Evermark." Evermark was the group Gareth belonged to, the name all but a title.

He had planned to gift his kitten Monday night for his sister's birthday--from the silent look his kitten was shooting him, he knew it well.

"I'm afraid I have an engagement Monday evening--but maybe Monday afternoon--if it's necessary to get together so soon. Wednesday would be better if we want make an evening of it."

Le Roi dared to dart a glance at the kitten, who had hidden his relief. "Monday afternoon should work--if nothing else, maybe we could work out a more long-term arrangement."

"Excellent. I look forward to hearing from you. Cat, my card for Mr. Le Roi, please."

Without missing a beat, his kitten pulled a folio out and retrieved a business card--a special business card--and handed it to Le Roi. He did serve as an administrative assistant to Gareth, though only part-time. He was, to Gareth's surprise, quite good at it, in fact.

Le Roi gave a smile full of teeth and promise. "I look forward to an arrangement, Mr. Evermark," Le Roi returned.

His kitten met Le Roi's eyes, then glanced demurely away as he said, "I'm sure it will be a pleasure, Mr. Le Roi."

Gareth saw Le Roi's hand twitch, as if itching to touch his kitten. "I'm certain, dear boy, that the pleasure will be all mine."

As he left, Gareth signaled for the check. It was past time to get his kitten home and fuck him properly.

* * *

Gareth didn't want to hear his kitten complain about the Monday afternoon appointment. He had promised the evening off, not the whole day, and Le Roi was too important to refuse completely. He could spare a couple of hours to let Le Roi have a taste. It should be enough to initiate a bigger contract. Then he could spend the evening with his precious sister. Gareth altered the settings of the balls the entire walk home, including up the four flights of stairs, so by the time they were in the apartment, the kitten was ready to beg.

"Strip--everything." He instructed one the door was soundly closed behind them. He went to an oversized leather armchair that was ideal to sit and watch his kitten. While he sat, he flipped on music, something with a deep, thrumming beat. He also hit the option to make the pole extend from the floor. "And give me a show," he commanded.

The kitten groaned but toed off his shoes and reached for the pole, grabbing it. He spun, ending up with his back to the pole, arms raised above his head when Gareth turned the vibrators on full, causing him to go up on his toes, head thrown back, and whine. Gareth turned the vibration back down, and his kitten quickly shrugged his jacket off his shoulders, tossing it over the nearby couch. He pulled on the tie, pulling the ends apart so it hung open, then rolling his hips against the pole with the beat of the music. Teasingly, eyes focused on Gareth, he undid the buttons on his shirt from the bottom up. When it was unbuttoned, he let it hang open. It was a slightly overlarge shirt for him; the back would actually hang down and cover most of his ass. He lifted a knee up high to wrap it around the pole, and somehow made stripping off a sock arousing, before repeating the movement with the other leg.

He turned his back to Gareth, sticking that beautiful ass out before humping the pole a few times, allowing himself to groan in need. His hands made short work of his belt, and his pants quickly dropped to his ankles. He stepped out of them delicately, turning to the side, lifting a knee to wrap around the pole again, his body fully naked under the shirt, acting as a tantalizing barrier. He rolled his trapped cock against the cool pole, throwing his head back as he gasped in need. Gareth turned the vibration back on full, and the humping became more desperate, as did the sounds his kitten made.

"Let me see, kitten," Gareth demanded. "I want to see you squat down and birth those balls."

It would be very difficult with them vibrating so much, but the kitten didn't hesitate to do as commanded, he spun, showing off his bare body, squatting down, using the pole to keep his balance with his knees spread wide. His trapped cock was an angry color, and it twitched and bounced more than just the kitten's movements would make it.

"Master...."

His kitten's hips were rocking with their need, his eyes glazed in pleasure.

"Out with them, kitten."

He buried his face in one bicep as he began to try to expel the balls. They were vibrating so intensely, giving him so much stimulation and pleasure, rubbing up against his prostate, it must have been torture. He groaned in effort, letting out a labored gasp.

"I can't," he said between pants. "Master, _please_."

"If you want to come, kitten, you must birth those balls."

His kitten cried out in frustration, an actual tear leaking down his cheek, but he tried again. This time, his efforts were nearly rewarded. Gareth could see the ball straining at his entrance, then flipped it from vibration to pulsing. In his shock, the kitten sucked it back in, crying out and nearly losing his balance.

"Please!"

"You know what you must do, kitten."

Finally, after probably five more minutes of tormenting his kitten, he had expelled both balls. He looked wrung out from the effort and had had at least one dry orgasm.

"Come here, kitten," Gareth commanded. Too weak to stand, the kitten crawled, the movement alluring even in his exhausted state. He stopped between Gareth's legs, pillowing his head on Gareth's inner thigh.

"Master," he said. Gareth helped pull him onto his lap, making him straddle Gareth's spread thighs, which put his own genitals on display. He reached below his kitten and released the chain. His cock sprang up, but was still curved thanks to the sound. As gently as possibly, he removed the sound. Semen dripped from the unstoppered dick from his earlier trapped orgasms, but it was clear it was not a new one. Gareth let it slick his kitten's cock. Then he touched his thumb ring to the base of his kitten's cock ring, unlocking and removing it. His kitten was so far gone in sensation, Gareth didn't even think he noticed. To make sure though, he pulled the tie from his kitten's neck and wrapped it around his eyes.

Gareth took that desperately hard cock in hand and began to stroke it. His kitten moaned, putting his hands behind them, stabilizing himself by grasping Gareth's knees, hips rocking into the touch desperately.

"Master, please!" his kitten begged. "Please, I need you."

"You need me?" Gareth opened his own pants, taking his cock out and stroking it, the leaked cum making a suitable lube. It was already leaking.

"Yes, Master."

"What do you need me to do, kitten? Be explicit."

"I need you inside of me!"

"Inside? What if I want you to come from my hand?"

His kitten whined. "So empty, Master. Please fill me. I can't come when I'm empty."

Gareth put special attention on the places he knew were particularly sensitive, and his kitten arched his back. _"Please!"_

"Please what?"

"Fuck me. Fill me. Take me."

"If I fuck you, you don't get to come until I come, am I clear."

Ah, that keening. Gareth's favorite noise, unrestrained.

"I need words, kitten."

"Anything... anything you say-- _Mast-er!"_ He yelped as Gareth pressed the entire tip of his pinkie into his kitten's slit.

"Anything?" Gareth's own voice was gravelly with arousal, but he didn't think the kitten noticed.

"Anything. God, please, anything. Please just fuck me. Please fill me. So empty, Master. I need you."

Gareth released his cock and pulled him forward, lining him up, then slamming into him in one very hard thrust that would usually make him orgasm immediately. His kitten screamed and clutched at Gareth's jacket, but he didn't come.

He had been so turned on for so long that Gareth didn't have the patience for drawn-out fuck. He gave a few very hard thrusts, wringing sounds of need and desperation from his kitten that drove his arousal higher. He paused to turn his kitten around so his back was to Gareth's chest, then pulled his arms up behind Gareth's head, just like that first time he'd taken him. Then he gave a few quick, hard jabs, pinched both of his kitten's nipples viciously, and came. As soon as he came, he felt his kitten's whole body virtually seize on his lap, and he came in a small fountain, spraying several feet in front of them.

He basked in the afterglow for probably fifteen minutes. His kitten had actually passed out from the intensity, and Gareth allowed himself to feel smug for that. Still buried in the kitten, he stroked that tormented cock, amused as it twitched in his hand. His conditioning had been as spectacularly thorough as he'd hoped. Even without the cock ring, his kitten was now so conditioned that he _could not_ ejaculate without something in him. Something to be tested further at a later date. He slipped the cock ring back in place, his kitten groaning unconsciously at its weight. He removed the tie and set it aside.

He used his phone to turn off the music, it's throbbing beat no longer matching his mood. The sudden silence made his kitten stir. Golden eyelashes fluttered as his kitten came around.

"Hmm, Master?" He rolled his hips a little, feeling Gareth within. But Gareth was not twenty-one, and though he felt his cock give the ghost of a twitch in interest, it was done--probably for the night.

"Come on, kitten. Time for bed."

He got the kitten to his feet drunkenly, whining when Gareth slipped out of him. then maneuvered him to fall into the bed. He giggled as he bounced, the endorphins still swimming in his system, and Gareth went to the closet to strip out of his own suit, as well as to find a suitable toy. He wanted his kitten plugged tonight. He opened a drawer in the closet where he kept the plugs and pulled out one he knew his kitten particularly detested but Gareth loved. It was three balls making up the plug, the first an inch in diameter, the second two inches, and the third, three. It wasn't long enough to reach his kitten's trigger, but the two-inch ball pressed into his prostate, and the three stretched at his entrance. He left the closet, seeing his kitten cuddling some blankets--knowing better than to get under them without his Master's consent.

Gareth slipped up behind him, the only warning he gave, a tap to his hole before pressing the plug in. His kitten yelped, trying to arch away, but Gareth pushed it in with one smooth motion.

His kitten groaned. "I hate this one."

Gareth pushed on the base, making his kitten writhe with the overstimulation.

"Bear it for your master," he replied, moving way, going to his side of the bed. When he got under the covers, it was the cue for his kitten to do the same, and he did so with a muffled "hmph."

He reached for the kitten, pulling him so he was spooned in his master's arms. After only a moment of tension, he relaxed.

"Happy anniversary, kitten," Gareth murmured.

If his kitten heard him, he didn't reply.


	3. A Fantastic Setting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Absolutely blown away by the response to this. Guess we'll find out how much you really enjoy the framework for the smut because this chapter has a lot less of it.

Nothing quite yanked Vince out of a sound sleep like having a plug removed and abruptly replaced with a cock when he was his tightest and least prepped. 

"Motherfu--" he bit off the curse as every muscle seemed to tense, clutching at the sheets as he adjusted, trying to relax. Gareth groaned so deep in his chest, Vince would swear he could feel it through his back. As much as he'd like to deny it, Vince found being fucked incredibly pleasurable, as if it were some twisted consolation prize. Being woken up like this was the one time he genuinely hated it. The minutes between sleep and true wakefulness, before his body seemed prepared to engage in the kind of pleasure being filled usually gave him, were the minutes when he truly felt assaulted, violated, repulsed. Minutes where he was simply in pain and powerless. 

Gareth didn't let Vince's body warm up, didn't really seem to care if Vince enjoyed these early-morning ruts. He simply fucked until he was satisfied, usually coming when Vince's body was finally beginning to warm to the task. 

This morning was no different, Gareth's final sharp thrusts catching Vince's prostate perfectly, finally awakening his cock just as Gareth finished, leaving Vince turned on and hanging. He wasn't near the intense level of arousal that could fall over into orgasm as the slightest touch to his trigger. And Gareth didn't linger within him, pulling out, leaving Vince feeling empty and aroused and used. Nine months ago, he might have tried to use his hand to get himself off. Now he knew all he would do was frustrate himself without a toy or cock long enough to set off his trigger. To Vince, sex now meant being fucked; coming meant being full. His cock had been mostly reduced to a physical indicator of his arousal. It was no longer the focus of sexual pleasure. Attention to it was like a side dish to penetration's main course. It could be good, but it wasn't enough to sate him on its own. 

Now both tired and turned on, Vince turned onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. This was apparently a mistake as Gareth took it as an invitation to reseat the plug that had been within him all night, making him yelp. The stupid fucking plug that could tease him, taunt him, yet was just too short to satisfy him. Vince risked a glare over his shoulder, apparently to Gareth's amusement, because he chuckled. Gareth guided his hips up, and with a sigh, Vince got his knees under him. He made to lift up on his hands, only to pause when he felt Gareth's hand settle between his shoulderblades, pushing him back down.

 _Lovely_. Turned on, ass in the air, plugged, but a glance showed that Gareth was soft. Which meant he wanted to play, and play did not necessarily mean Vince got to come.

Sure enough, Gareth began to pull and twist and manipulate the oversized plug within Vince. _It's too fucking early for this_ , Vince thought with irritation, even as a particularly well-aimed motion pegged his prostate, drawing a moan from him. 

Gareth pulled the plug out partially, so Vince's opening was forced to stretch around the largest part of it, then began to twist it around in a way that stretched Vince from within, grinding especially hard against Vince's prostate when it hit that spot. It wasn't long before Vince was fully hard, trying to press back against the toy, get it deeper, even though his rational mind knew it wasn't long enough to make him come. 

"On your back, kitten. Knees nice and wide."

Groaning, Vince turned over. His hips were lifted quickly, and a pillow was slipped under them, elevating his ass. Gareth took the plug out, leaving Vince empty and needy. He whined, flexing his hips as if he could tempt Gareth. 

Gareth chuckled again, the sound tickled across Vince's skin. Then Gareth pressed the index and middle fingers of both hands into him and _pulled_.

Vince absolutely keened at the sensation. So stretched, so _open_. Gareth stopped pulling, letting Vince's hole collapse back down some, before pulling apart, stretching Vince so wide he thought he had to tear. His back arched off the bed--his rock-hard cock bouncing on his stomach--as he tried to roll his hips, as if the motion could push Gareth's fingers deeper into him. 

"How does that feel, kitten?" Gareth asked, his voice gravelly in the way it only got when he was deeply aroused. Vince threw his head back, a needy sound tearing its way from his throat. Gareth released the pressure, letting Vince's hole recover a little, though it still felt very stretched and open, and Gareth didn't remove his fingers as he felt around Vince's rim, checking to make sure there were no tears. Vince gasped, trying to catch his breath. Before he fully could, Gareth pressed him wide again, and Vince bucked, tossing his head as two more fingers--one from each hand, were pressed in, pulling him open even _wider_ and _deeper_ as Gareth seemed to be trying not to just stretch the guard muscle, but make his whole ass open as deep as his fingers could reach. As he did this, pressed equally hard inside and out, two fingers pressed hard and unrelenting on Vince's prostate, pushing, pushing, _crushing_ , until something seemed to snap in Vince. He wailed and tried to buck--not that Gareth's firm grip released him--as a feeling like an orgasm swept through him, even as his cock twitched uselessly against his abs. 

Gareth let him ride out the dry orgasm for a minute, and before Vince could gain any sense of mind, he pressed _again._ He pressed _harder_ , opened Vince up _further_ , and pressed into Vince's prostate _again_ , every bit as hard, if not harder, and another dry orgasm rolled through him. A strange side effect of his ring meant that he'd inadvertently been trained to separate orgasm from ejaculation. Not being able to ejaculate without his trigger, but being driven to previously unexperienced heights of arousal meant he found the middle ground--orgasming without coming. Vince arched until only his shoulders and head rested on the bed, his entire body a taught rubberband, his hole straining to close but unable to around Gareth's immovable hands. Gareth would release his pressure on Vince's prostate just a hair before pressing again and spiraling Vince into a long, nearly continuous orgasm.

When the last of the orgasm began to ebb, Vince realized he was crying. He was also still held shockingly open, his body having apparently given even further once the tension of orgasm faded. He could distantly hear himself begging, "Please, please, Master," but the larger part of him knew he wouldn't be heeded. 

"Someone would pay a fortune to see you like this," Gareth commented, the idle words undercut by the rumble being intensely aroused gave him. 

Like a switch had been flipped, Gareth stopped forcing him open and took his hands away. Vince's hole gaped, the opening numb to him--though not painful, at least. He felt horribly exposed, far more than normal. Vince tried to clench his hole, but if it responded, he didn't feel it, and he sobbed, overwhelmed.

Gareth moved back up to lay beside him, one hand idly stroking Vince's hair. "There, there, kitten." The other moved down to Vince's cock, which although still hard, wasn't as desperate as it had been before the orgasms.

"No," he protested, weakly trying to push Gareth's hand away.

"Ah, ah, ah," Gareth rumbled, stroking him, paying particular attention to the head of his cock.

"Please, Master," Vince begged. "Please no. It's too much."

But Gareth increased his strokes instead, keying Vince back to desperation levels.

"God, you are so beautiful when you're like this," Gareth murmured. "Grip the pillow, kitten. You have no choice but to submit to me, so _submit_."

Vince obeyed, clawing at the pillow even as his body fought between the need for more and the need to get away. He writhed, hips alternately thrusting and trying to pull back, his legs coming up to try and block his crotch, only to fall open, pulling his knees up, only to have his feet slip on the sheets.

When Gareth moved again, taking the head of Vince's cock in his mouth, Vince nearly screamed. It wasn't the first time someone had blown him when he was like this, but it was especially rare for Gareth to do it. The pressure of that tongue pushing right under his head and _undulating_ there kept Vince on the edge of yet another orgasm, drawn out as Gareth continued that trick with his tongue until he could barely stand it. Something touched his trigger, and he came so violently, he thought he might have blacked out.

He was floating like he was drugged by the time Gareth finally released him. He was still vaguely aware he was hard, but it was a distant thing, not pressing. He could cool down from where he was without too much trouble. 

Gareth idly fingering his hole felt distant too. "I'd put this plug back in you, but you're so loose, I think it'd fall out," he commented. He slid four fingers in with no resistance. Since Gareth wasn't actively stretching him and was deliberately avoiding his prostate, Vince pushed into it gently, enjoying it in the same way he might enjoy someone stroking his hair or rubbing his back.

"Such a kitten." Gareth chuckled, finally pulling his hand out. "Go ahead and go back to sleep," he suggested, tucking Vince back under the blankets. "I have a busy afternoon planned for you, so get some rest."

Part of Vince wanted to ask, but if Gareth had wanted him to know now, he would have told him. Instead, he turned onto his side, snuggled back into the truly decadent bed, and drifted back to sleep. 

* * *

Vince woke up to someone stroking his hair. He grumbled and buried his face in the pillow. Gareth chuckled. 

"Come on, kitten. Time to get up. You need a shower. Don't need to wash your hair, but you'll want to be thoroughly clean."

Which meant _wash the come out of you_ , since Vince hadn't taken an actual shit in a year. The micrograte Gareth had placed in him that first night was the real thing, and unless he had come in him, he was basically internally sterile and clean.

"Up, kitten." He flung the blankets off Vince, who curled up. Gareth ran a hand down his side to quickly press into his ass. Two fingers met no resistance, and now that he was awake, Vince was aware of how open he still felt. He would tighten back up--it wasn't the first time he'd been stretched like this--but the open, empty feeling could linger for more than a day. He always felt oddly vulnerable when he'd been stretched this much. Gareth pressed four fingers into him again, to still almost no resistance. 

"Hard to get up with your hand up my ass," he complained, getting a sharp tap to his prostate in reprimand, but Gareth withdrew, and Vince sat up. He used his nails to scrape the sleep out of his eyes before running his hands through his hair. It was clean enough, though he'd need a real shower tomorrow. He stood and locked his fingers, stretched his arms all the away above his head, then bent at the waist, stretching his locked fingers all the way to press his palms to the floor. It stretched his shoulders, back, and legs pleasantly, chasing the lethargy of sleep from his limbs. When he stood back up, he rolled his neck a couple times before looking at Gareth. "I don't suppose I have time to stretch this morning."

Yoga had been a blessing for his peace of mind. Gareth may have made him take it for fitness and flexibility, but Vince found its meditative aspects invaluable, and he liked to do at least half an hour of it after he woke up. 

Gareth was dressed and ready for the day, a mug of coffee in one hand. He glanced at his watch, then his eyes roved over Vince's bare body, as though he didn't see it nearly daily. "Fifteen minutes. I get to watch."

Vince did _not_ roll his eyes, not matter how much he wanted to. Instead, he knelt next to the bed, pulled out his yoga mat, and then got back up and walked out to the living room--no point in putting on clothing. 

There was a balcony with a large wall of windows, giving a stunning view of the city. Deciding to ignore Gareth as he settled in at the kitchen peninsula to watch him, he tapped the music player, pulling up his soft, soothing playlist, then rolled out the mat in front of the window. 

His morning routine took exactly half an hour, but it had a place he could stop for a fifteen-minute version when he had to. A timer was unnecessary. For the next fifteen minutes, he forgot about Gareth, stretching, breathing, just _being_. In these moments, he could forget about what he was, what he did. In these moments, he found peace.

When he finished and looked at Gareth, he could see pleasure in the other man's eyes, but all he said was, "Go. Shower. Make sure that bush is trimmed. You have fifteen minutes."

Vince didn't waste a minute, leaving his mat to air out, hitting the music player on his way out to turn it off. He'd always had fine, pale body hair that disappeared against his tanner skin. His legs actually looked hairless, though he kept very cleanshaven, and his chest and underarms were kept hairless, he was allowed a small, very well-manicured patch of pubic hair above his cock. Probably because the carpet matched the drapes.

Now practiced, he grabbed a claw clip, pinned his hair back efficiently, grabbed a towel, and made a beeline for the shower. He scrubbed his face first, feeling carefully to be sure he didn't need a shave as well--he didn't, and he suspected the aftershave he was told to use inhibited new growth, but what was he going to do? Refuse to use it?--felt his underarms and chest to be just as sure, then began to scrub down his body with quick moves. It wasn't a morning to luxuriate. He had trimmed his bush the morning before--once clean, it didn't need any additional care. Clean externally, he sighed and picked up the hose attachment. There really wasn't a better way to do this, unfortunately.

Vince braced his hand on the wall of the shower, out of the fall of the main shower head, and moved the tip of the nozzle to his still-gaping ass. He flicked the setting to turn it on, and his entire ass was instantly filled with a warm jet of water. The pleasure of the water pressure wasn't unlike a shower pounding on your back, Vince let himself moan softly, closing his eyes. He flipped off the hose when he felt his bowels beginning to fill, moved the nozzle away, and let the water run out of him for a couple minutes before repeating the process. There was absolutely no prayer of holding the water in today, so it was over even more quickly than normal. Vince turned off the hose, replaced it on its hook, then leaned against the shower wall and pressed hard against his stomach. A little extra water gushed out of him, and he repeated the action until there was no additional rush of fluid. That done, he took one last rinse of his face and body, then turned off the shower. He grabbed the towel from over the shower, and began to briskly dry off. He wrapped the towel around his waist--a habit more than an attempt of modesty, and quickly brushed his teeth before pulling down his hair and running a brush through it.

When he stepped back into the bedroom, Gareth was standing at the window, apparently simply enjoying the view. Vince paused as he realized he didn't know what he should wear. As if reading his mind, Gareth said, "Jeans and T-shirt are fine for today."

Something in his tone told Vince he wouldn't be wearing them long anyway. With an internal sigh, he stepped back into the closet, grabbing a pair of absurdly expensive jeans--but all of the he clothing he had at the apartment was stupidly expensive. He didn't actually have any T-shirts there. The closest he came to one was a plain button-down. Grabbing a red short-sleeved button-down--Gareth's favorite color on him--Vince pulled it on, buttoned it up, then pulled his hair out of the collar.

He felt eyes on him, and turned to see Gareth leaning in the closet doorway. Vince didn't say anything, but he did quirk an eyebrow, a silent inquiry Gareth could ignore or answer.

Gareth shook his head. "Watching you get dressed is nearly as enticing as watching you get undressed."

What the hell was he supposed to say to that? Sorry? Deciding silence was the better part of valor in this case--as was often the case with Gareth--Vince simply grabbed the folio off the dresser. 

"You won't need that today."

 _Okay..._ , he thought, putting it down. He wanted to ask so badly, but Gareth had taught him early that if he _wanted_ Vince to know something, he would tell him. 

"Anything I do need to bring?" he asked, almost dreading the response. 

"Just yourself. Come." His watch beeped, and Gareth looked at it. "Perfect timing. Our ride is here."

"Will I be home this even--"

"I will let you know if you need to let your sister know."

Vince did not let his irritation show on his face, instead following Gareth to the door and down to the car. 

The ride was close to an hour, and Vince realized it was just about ten when they arrived at what appeared to be a small mansion. A little odd. He usually preferred to dress Vince very up or in very little depending on the client in these cases. Vince looked nice, but he looked normal. 

The car pulled down a long drive and pulled up in front of an ornate entryway. Vince only vaguely noted the columns and the grandeur. He had found the exteriors of such places reflected their owners less than their interiors. Mansions like this one were usually purchased, and the architecture and style might give a hint about its owner, but nothing like insight the interior usually gave. He followed Gareth to the massive front doors. A butler answered within a moment or two of ringing the bell. 

"Master Gareth. Welcome," the butler said--with a proper English accent, no less. It wasn't the first butler he had seen in the last year, but Vince was still astonished that people _had_ butlers these days, but he supposed if his option were to be someone's butler or their bedwarmer....

After handing over his coat and scarf, he tuned out Gareth as he exchanged pleasantries with the butler, instead taking in the decor--discretely, of course. Almost everything in the cavernous entry was white and soft grays. Smooth, clean, inoffensive. Against it, the artwork was the centerpiece. Large paintings, sketches, and photographs hung on every wall. There was virtually no furniture, except for pedestals and tables that displayed sculptures. Whoever owned this place was a fine art connoisseur. As much as he could without stepping from Gareth's side or gawking obviously, Vince took in the subject matter. At first glance, it would be easy to think the subjects were all sexual. There was quite a lot of skin and even genitalia on display. But closer examination showed that it wasn't sex so much as connection, vulnerability, trust, and love. There was lust in there too, but from what Vince could see, that wasn't the owner's preferred subject matter. 

One in particular caught his eye--a threesome--placed so prominently in the entryway it'd be impossible to miss. The three all lay on their sides, one man--the center--facing the woman, obviously penetrating her, though her thigh was raised, covering the actual joining. Their foreheads were pressed together, the expressions on their faces ones of love, not lust. A second man was spooning the first, but he appeared to be captured midthrust, so it was clear that he was penetrating the central man. It was like the painter didn't want anyone to be able to deny the physical connection between the men. Both men had an arm stretched above their heads, fingers intertwined in a way that somehow seemed more intimate than the physical penetration. The penetrator was kissing the other man's nape, the expression on his face reverent. His spare hand was laced with the woman's, resting on the center man's hip. 

Vince couldn't help but wonder what sex like that would be like. He'd been a virgin when Gareth had taken him for the first time. He hadn't been with anyone he hadn't been sold to since, and the people willing to pay for him were not looking for love and connection. Companionship and release at best. Darker desires at worst. There was no question in Vince's mind that this painting represented nothing but love and acceptance. 

"Cat!" 

Gareth was waiting halfway down the hall for him, looking a little irritated. Vince hurried to catch them, murmuring an apology under his breath. 

"Please don't feel bad, sir. Ms. Yelizaveta will be pleased to know how much you enjoyed the painting. It is her favorite." The butler's expression was almost totally neutral, but something in his voice was gentle, fond. He simply continued leading them deeper into the house.

Gareth fell into step with him and said softly, "I didn't know you liked art."

Vince glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, but Gareth's face, like his voice, was more curious than reprimanding, and he shrugged. "I think most people enjoy beautiful things."

It had once been more than that. When he'd been younger, he'd devoured books on art and style, color theory, schools of thought. Texts that--in retrospect--really should have been over his head. He remembered when he was eight or nine, before his father had gotten sick, diligently looking up every word he didn't know in an Alfonzo Mucha image and essay collection. He had even attended a few children's art classes. 

Then his dad had gotten sick when he was ten, and he had to do everything he could to help his overstressed mother out at home. He drew still, back then. Back then not drawing had seemed impossible. But as his father's diagnoses got worse, and his condition lingered but did not improve, and as his mother kept coming up with money from somewhere to pay for experimental treatments not covered by insurance, he took over more and more of the work at home and the day-to-day care for his father as his mother picked up part-time work left and right. When he was fourteen and could also begin working--two jobs, one of them under the table--he was finally so exhausted that the most he could bother drawing was in the margins of his schoolwork. 

When his father died and he picked up a second under-the-table job to help his mother with the bills, he couldn't even find the energy to scrawl in the margins. It was like when his father had died, so had his art. Now that his mother was gone, he found it difficult to even appreciate it. The painting of the threesome had been the first to move him in a long time.

He said nothing more, and they walked in silence until the butler finally opened glass doors to an atrium. It was like a fantasy forest, resplendent with beautiful flowers, twisting, delicate, ornate trees, colored cobblestones--some of which appeared to be gemstones--and bubbling sound of a gentle waterfall. The sun streamed in through massive windows--indeed, almost the whole room appeared to be made of glass. It was warmer than room temperature, like a warm early-summer day, and the humidity was just high enough to be noticed, but not enough for Vince to begin sweating. 

His amazement was interrupted by what he could only call a _squee_. It was that particular, overexcited, high-pitched sound of absolute happiness that his sister so rarely made these days. Vince turned to look for the source of it. 

A tall woman--at least as tall as he was--was literally bouncing on her toes. She wore some gauzy, filmy thing--he couldn't tell if it were a dress or a shirt or something else entirely--but it seemed to tantalize more than cover. She hurried over to them, able to stand eye-to-eye with Gareth, and practically threw herself into his arms, jingling as she did so. Judging by Gareth's muffled _oompf_ , she was squeezing with the same enthusiasm as she'd bounced on her toes. "Oh, Gareth, you _are_ a _prince_!" She released him to step back, and Vince didn't think he imagined the gasp Gareth let out as he was released. Then the woman turned her attention on him. 

She was--under a frizzy, graying cloud of hair that haloed her and probably reached her waist--quite a striking woman, probably had been stunningly beautiful when she was younger. Long, fine features, chiseled cheeks, a perfectly-proportioned nose, and generous lips that stretched the length of her face when she smiled. She wasn't a thin woman, but rather solid, with curves in all the right places, and a generous, surprisingly perky bosom under the flimsy clothing. She took Vince's face in a long-fingered hand, but she was gentle about it. Her hazel eyes danced with pleasure as she turned him this way and that. "Oh, you are absolutely _perfect_ ," she cooed, then turned back to Gareth. "He _is_ for me, isn't he?"

Gareth chuckled. "Yes, Liz, he's for you. I told you I knew someone who would work."

She released Vince's chin and stepped back just a bit, but it seemed more to be able to take him in better than to get out of his personal space. Without hesitating, she reached out again, grabbing one of Vince's hands and holding it out, turning it this way and that, just as she had with his face. Her lips spread so wide as she smiled, they threatened to split her face in half. "Absolutely perfect," she gushed again. 

"Yelizaveta Mldenovic, this is Cat. Cat, Yelizaveta."

She waved a dismissive hand. "Only Ambrose calls me that. Liz, please," she said with a distracted air. 

Vince was well and truly confused. "Cat" was what Gareth called him when his working name of Aurum wasn't appropriate, a play on his kitten nickname. He didn't like Gareth's choice or its allusion, but at least he shielded Vince's real name. But why was he using it here? This woman was treating him like he'd been paid for, but not quite the same. There was an impersonalness to her touch and manhandling, yet she eyed him like she was imagining him naked. But if she hadn't paid for him, what was he doing here?

She let go of his hand. "All right, shirt off," she commanded, then shot a, "Thank you, Ambrose," over his shoulder to the butler. 

"I'm sorry?" It spilled out before he could stop it. It had been a while since a client had mentally wrongfooted him the way this woman was. 

She blinked, seeming to come back to herself. "Oh, no, I'm sorry. I just get so excited. Surely Gareth told you what you're here for?" He closed his expression, and she deflated somewhat, turning back to Gareth. "Really, Gareth. The boy looks like he's expecting to be served up on a platter. What did you tell him?" Before Gareth could open his mouth to reply, she continued, "You didn't tell him _anything_? Honestly, Gareth, that's no way to treat a lover--open relationship or not."

Interesting not-exactly lie there. Besides, it was a little bit of fun to see the usually oh-so-in control Gareth flustered. But before he could reply, Liz was rolling over him again, and Vince felt something in his chest loosen a little.

"Since Gareth's been so remiss, allow me to explain. I am currently doing a photography series--Fantastic Love, the collection will be called. I have been working with some truly talented make-up artists to transform people into different mythological creatures and have been taking pictures of them in various poses of love, using fantastic settings like this." She opened her arms to indicate the atrium. "I've been absolutely stumped on finding the perfect merman--and _you_ , my darling, are absolutely _perfect_." 

"Oh," Vince said stupidly, part of him utterly intrigued by the idea. 

"Well, that is if you're not shy about showing... quite a bit of skin. And, you know, being photographed in, well, some... steamy situations. No actual sex or genitalia!" she rushed to add. "Though if you're open later...." 

She actually waggled her eyebrows, which startled a laugh out of Vince. "I'm... comfortable," he told her with a smile. She sucked in a breath and fanned herself. 

"Good Goddess, just don't go flashing that grin and getting jumped by nuns and priests. Gareth, you are a very bad boy, keeping this one from me."

* * *

Gareth watched Liz link her arm with Vince's and all but tow him deeper into the atrium, chatting at him excitedly. He smiled. Liz usually made people smile, even his kitten.

And she hadn't been kidding about him not flashing that smile. The closest that Gareth usually saw was when Vince was riding high on endorphins after a particularly intense round of sex. But that was a giddy, half-smug grin, very different from the warmth he bestowed on Liz. Gareth realized that he might be a little jealous.

He followed them at a comfortable distance so that Liz's chatter could roll over him without requiring he pay attention. Idly he wondered if he should let his kitten have a roll in the sheets with Liz. Gareth never had, but he had also known her since he was a child and she herself a teenager. Liz was a big believer in polyamory and free love, but even she couldn't quite look past the child he had been.

That said, she could probably teach his kitten some new tricks. The few times he'd spent nights with women had not been good ones for his kitten. The reality was few women were truly sexually liberated enough to pay for a boy. And of the few who were, most of them were in the life, and his kitten, though he certainly enjoyed being fucked, was not a true masochist. Gareth was relatively sure he was bi, but his only sexual experiences with women so far had been with dominatrices. For someone who found such pleasure in men, it could be enough to--if not truly change his orientation--then perhaps give him a decided personal preference for men.

Being with someone like Liz, who was all about the pleasure and respect and joy of sex could potentially heal a lot of damage.

But it could also inflict more. His kitten was a whore who seemed to be... if not enthusiastic, at peace with his lot. But he had never been involved with someone emotionally as well as sexually. There was a chance that Liz could ruin him, make him crave the emotional instead of merely allowing himself to enjoy the physical.

She hurried him over to a pond that looked like so fairy cove. Vince was hustled over to a couple of makeup artists, one of which appeared to coo as Liz had done, the other looking thoughtful. His kitten's shirt was quickly stripped down, and he was stood and spun in place, manhandled liberally by the artists, but he seemed bemused by it. Liz and the artists talked, quickly throwing ideas at each other, coming to a consensus relatively quickly. An artist went to rack of clothing and costumes, pulling off a mermaid tail that was every shade of blue and green from night sky deep forest to cerulean and turquoise. It was presented to his kitten, and he was shuffled off behind a folding screen to change. 

His pants were thrown over the top, and a couple minutes later, he shuffled out, the tail trapping his thighs together, sitting _very_ low on his hips--if it went any farther they were going to have to shave him, but _wow_ did it show off the perfection of his torso.The end of the tail was slit so he could shuffle and walk, the tail looped over his elbow like a woman's dress. He was practically picked up by the artists, plunked into a seat in front of a mirror, and attacked. 

Liz strolled back over to where Gareth stood watching. "He is absolutely perfect. I don't suppose I want to know where you found him," she said softly, watching as her artists began transforming him. One was messing with his hair as the second began applying makeup to his face. 

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," he replied smoothly. 

He didn't think Liz really knew some of the more illegal things he was involved with, but he thought she had long suspected. A frown marred her features for a moment.

"He's... submissive," she said thoughtfully. "No. That's the wrong word. Passive."

Gareth couldn't repress a snort at that description of his kitten, and Liz rolled her eyes at him. 

"Oh, he's sensual and sensitive. I'll bet he's spectacular to have beneath you. He's very aware of people touching him, being in his space," she said. She folded her arms, tapping a finger on one arm thoughtfully. "But he... lets things happen to him, not really participating. Following direction, letting himself be handled... He's bemused right now, but he's not really engaged, almost as if watching it happen to someone else. I'll need him engaged for this to work or all that beauty will be a waste. So tell me, Gareth, is there something I should know?"

He shrugged. "He likes to be fucked," he said, partially to try to shock her--so little did--and partially because he really didn't know what she wanted him to say.

Liz sighed. "You're not his lover, are you?" She wasn't really asking, so Gareth raised his eyebrows in a silent question. "He glances over here to check on you every now and then, but it's..." She pursed her lips, thinking before changing tacts and saying, "He doesn't stand in your space. He doesn't lean toward you. He checks for your censure, not reassurance. You may fuck, but he doesn't actually like you. It's plain if you know how to look. Do I want to know why you have a barely twenty-year-old boy in your bed when he doesn't appear to want to be there?"

  
"He's twenty-two," Gareth said, not liking the reprimand in her tone. "And if you're so certain that he doesn't want to be there, why don't you ask him?"

She looked at him, then looked back at Vince, who had glanced over to them. The amusement was gone, even though the artists still worked on him. Though his face was blank, there was a stillness to him that Gareth recognized as a sign of tension. He was still as stunning as any sculpture, but it was a cold, inhuman beauty, nothing like the mesmerizing smile he'd flashed Liz earlier. 

Liz looked back at Gareth. "I won't ask him because he won't tell me," she said, a little sad. "Nothing I can do can change his fate, can it? Whatever you've got him tangled up in, he'll never admit to it." She sighed again, rubbing her forehead. "I hope I can get some real emotion out of him for this. Do me a favor and let him have today? Let him just embrace and enjoy this process."

Gareth turned to face her. "Of course. I never had any other intention. I know he's safe with you."

Of course, from the admission, Liz would know that he had left his kitten in the care of those he _wasn't_ safe with. 

"Ms. Yelizaveta," Ambrose spoke up from behind them. How long he'd been there, Gareth didn't know, but judging by the people following him, it wasn't long. They didn't appear to have waited long or seem bothered by whatever they may have overheard.

Liz lit up. "Sascha! Caroline!" All enthusiasm, she apparently dismissed both Gareth and the conversation from her mind. He knew it was an illusion. For all her frippery and flounciness, Liz had a startlingly sharp mind. "Look what my friend has brought us!"

She linked her arms with each of the people--both more than average beauties in their own rights--and lead them to his kitten. With some conscious effort, Gareth eased the grimace from his own features. Even though the artists had continued to bubble and chat at Vince, he hadn't relaxed, and Gareth was sure it was because he could tell Gareth was unhappy. He gave his kitten a small, reassuring smile, and Vince finally turned his attention back to the artists and to the two new people Liz was introducing. The damage appeared done though. That stillness clung stubbornly to him. 

He sighed. Liz was going to be livid with him if he ruined this. 

* * *

Vince could feel Gareth's displeasure, even from the twenty or more feet he was away. His stomach twisted, wondering what he'd done and how he was going to pay for it. Even though he'd tried to smile at him, it was forced. Even when Liz brought two new people over to him, her energy failed to sweep him up as it had the first time, and her words seemed to flow over him without actually registering. He watched in the mirror as Gareth walked up behind them. 

"Excuse me," he said, interrupting the babble and chatter. "I have other responsibilities today I must attend to." Gareth placed a large hand on the side of his neck, careful not to mess with anything the artists had done. He leaned over and murmured into Vince's ear, "Please, enjoy yourself today." 

As he stood up and stepped away, Vince turned and followed him with his eyes. "Gareth?" he asked. He so rarely said his master's name aloud, it felt odd on his tongue, but the man smiled at him. 

"You'll have fun with Liz. Just keep an eye on the time. Liz, let me know if you're going to keep him late. His phone broke yesterday, so I'll need to let his sister know."

"Of course," she assured him, then made shooing motions. "Go. Scram. This is as much of a preview as you're getting."

Gareth chuckled as he began to walk out the way they had come. Vince could tell it was forced, but he wasn't sure anyone else would be able to. He was making it clear that whatever had upset him, it wasn't Vince. As Gareth's back disappeared into the trees, Vince felt like he could breathe easier. 

"There we are." The warmth in her voice made Vince look at her, and she gently soothed his bangs, careful not mess up the artists' work. "Today should be fun. I don't think you heard me the first time. These will be your co-models. Sacsha Antonelli and Caroline Ieyasu."

"Cat," he said shortly, taking them in. Sacsha was a strikingly handsome man, probably topped six six, but well-proportioned in a way that didn't make his height immediately obvious. His hair was dusty blond with more warm brown and maybe even red tones than Vince's yellow-blond hair had, long enough to be styled and to run your hands through, but not _long_. His eyes were a little small, overshadowed by a strong brow, so their blue color didn't jump out at you quite as much as they may have otherwise, but he still had the classically handsome features that could cause people to turn and look. 

Caroline--Liz said her name like "care-oh-lean"--was a stark contrast to him. She had warm, red-brown skin that probably meant she was at least biracial, flecked with darker dots of freckles everywhere her skin showed. Her hair was a deep auburn and pulled back in a mass of thin braids. Her eyes were large and dark in her face, soulful. She wasn't skinny like a traditional model, but something about her made it difficult to look away from her, made his fingers itch to try to capture her on paper for the first time in years. 

"Looks like you've caught another one, Caro," Sacsha said with a chuckle, and Vince forced himself to look at him instead. "Don't feel bad. Caro does that _everywhere_."

"I'm sorry, I'm not usually so rude."

Caroline smiled, and Vince felt like he was surely being graced by some goddess. "It's a compliment," she assured him. "You do like boys as well as girls, I hope."

"...Yes," he said, a little hesitantly. 

"Stop, stop, stop," Liz said, though not upset. "Caro, Sacsha, either side of Cat. Turn and face me--oh...." She propped her chin on a hand and smiled, obviously pleased. "You'll all be exquisite. Come now--Caro, Sacsha--into costumes. Let Arabelle and Zach finish up with Cat."

It was probably another hour before he was done. He was able to watch as Caroline and Sacsha were made up. In Sacsha's case, it both cases, it mostly meant hair styled. Liz explained as he watched that she didn't want the humans to look too perfect, to which he'd quipped that he didn't think they could look more perfect anyway. It had startled a ringing laughter from her that made him smile, and she said the point was to use beautiful people who didn't need to be made up, and she was glad that he thought she'd chosen well. 

When they were all done, Caroline and Sacsha both looked at him with such intensity, it made him blush. 

"All right then, some test shots, then down to the pools!" Liz announced, taking shots of all of them, individually and together, from seemingly every possible angle against a pure white background. There were a handful of other personnel, but Caroline quietly told him that Liz like working with very small groups. Then they walked down to an indoor pond and waterfall. It looked deep and mysterious, lost and fantastic. He knew he'd be getting wet, had been asked if he could swim, and he was a little tempted to just dive in, makeup and hair be damned, but he didn't want to mess up Liz's vision. He was, however, struggling to walk so much that Sacsha literally picked him up like a bride to carry him. 

Finally, Liz laid out what she expected from the scene, and Vince tucked his legs into the tail for it to be zipped up before he was scooted into the pond. It was if not warm, not freezing, so at least he wouldn't be battling that. He'd been covered in an opalescent dust that would--he was assured--stick regardless of the water, probably for a couple days. He'd had nails applied, a little webbing between his fingers. He wore probably hundreds of pearls, around his neck, wrists, waist, braided into his hair. Looking into the mirror, he had certainly believed something supernatural looked back at him. 

Zach, the hairstylist, leaned over him and very carefully, and liberally, sprayed down his hair, so it was wet, but didn't muss his makeup. The idea for this scene was love at first sight. 

And so it began. First Sacsha, then Caroline found the pool, became entranced with him. The tail was surprisingly functional, and Vince found he could swim well with it, even push himself upright, not unlike a dolphin. Of course, figuring out how well he could do it required risking him going under--the water _was_ indeed deep. In fact, there was a window into the pool in the basement below it. It was a massive aquarium, more than 10 feet deep. It was a surprisingly perfect place for the photo shoot. 

The first time he was asked to kiss Sacsha, he hesitated. He tried to apologize to Liz for it, but she waved him off, assuring him that it was ideal for the shoot. 

It was stupid to be so timid, but this wasn't like it was with clients. He couldn't treat Sascha or Caroline that way. It would almost certainly ruin the shoot. So for that day alone, he immersed himself in the story, letting himself imagine falling in love with his co-models. Imagining what it might be like to be from such different worlds but to be so helplessly drawn to one another. 

Apparently he wasn't the only one immersing himself because while making out, Sacsha got frustrated and pulled him out of the pool, throwing him on the ground, wasting not a moment to straddle him and dive in for a deeper kiss at the easier angle than bent over him in the pool. Sacsha broke the kiss, and moved down his neck, thrusting his swelling cock right against Vince's trapped member. Vince threw his head back and gasped, and Caroline appeared at his side, swallowing his moans with her own devouring kiss while Sacsha fastened his mouth around a nipple, making Vince writhe. Liz had warned him they'd be making out, but _this?_

As if in unison, both Sacsha and Caroline pulled back, allowing Vince to catch his breath. Caroline stroked his wet bangs aside, then tenderly pushed hairs back off his face and caressed his cheek. He lifted a hand to her own cheek, but hesitated seeing the dirt in it from where he's clawed at the ground. She moved into it anyway, holding his wrist gently to keep him from pulling away. Sacsha remained on his lap, watching them, softly stroking Vince's sides, but not in a way that was meant to be arousing--even if Vince could tell from the bulge pressed against him that Sacsha was still very turned on. 

"Fuck, you two are hot," Sacsha said.

Caroline laughed, a musical sound that made Vince smile, but the tension was broken. "I was about to say the same thing about the two of you. No fair for you to get him all to yourself."

Liz cut in--Vince had honestly mostly forgotten she was there early on--which was what she wanted. "All right. I think it's time to take a break. Ambrose--oh, there you are--"

Before she could say more, he stepped to the side and people in chefs' outfits wheeled carts in. "Lunch, Ms. Yelizaveta."

She shook her head ruefully, but smiled at him. "You aren't required to be perfect, you know, Ambrose."

He sniffed delicately, the _Of course I am_ , heavily implied. “Will that be all you need from us right now?"

"Yes, Ambrose. Thank you."

He and the staff turned and exited quietly, leaving what looked like a rather lavish late lunch. 

Sacsha still hadn't moved, but his weight wasn't fully on Vince, and it wasn't uncomfortable. Vince propped himself up on his elbows. "Is it always like this?" he asked as Caroline went to join the rest of the crew.

Sacsha made a so-so motion with his hand. "With Liz, it can be," he said. "But I've never worked on any other sets like Liz's. If we get a little out of control, she loves it."

Vince pointedly eyed Sacsha's still obvious bulge. "You seem to have a problem there."

He raised an eyebrow, then ground down on Vince's own trapped erection. Vince let his head fall back, but only sucked in a quiet breath. 

"I don't appear to be the only one with a problem," Sacsha said, smug, a teasing grin on his face. "I don't suppose you'd like to sneak off with me and take care of it?"

He rolled his hips down again, and Vince fought the groan that wanted to claw out of his chest. The proposal was actually more than a little tempting, but Vince remembered his ring. Sacsha was clearly just after a little mutual jerking off, not a quickie. And Vince wouldn't be able to get off anyway unless he was fucked. Even so, for the first time, he actually wanted to do this for someone. He sat up fully, his knees and tail were still hanging into the pool, and he grinned, pushing Sacsha backwards and following him in. 

Sacsha came up sputtering. He tread the water, looking at Vince in shock as Vince took the opportunity to get the mud off him. "What was that for?"

Vince grinned and began to swim backward. There was a deepish stream down this way, away from everyone else. Seeming to catch on, Sacsha glanced behind him then began to swim after Vince. Once they were out of sight from the others, Vince closed the distance, going for the buttons on Sacsha's shorts. Sacsha tried to reach for him, but he batted the hand away. 

"A little trapped," he said with a smile. "It's all good." He slipped the shorts down Sacsha's hips, and his cock jumped up. 

"But you--"

"Jump up here." He patted a stone by the stream. Sacsha did, but he was starting to look reluctant. His shorts were trapped about his knees, and Vince pulled them the rest of the way off, dropping them next to the man, then swam in between his legs. Sacsha didn't seem embarrassed--had nothing to be embarrassed about. He was gorgeous, thin, but long, and Vince felt his mouth water. He ducked under the water quickly and came up with all of his hair slicked back from his face and out of his way. 

He looked put his hands on Sacha's thighs and looked up through his eyelashes. Sacsha sucked in a sharp breath and his cock visibly jumped. 

"You are so beautiful," he breathed out the compliment. It reminded Vince of Gareth, and Vince didn't want the association right then. 

"How's your control?" he asked.

"Why--!" Sacsha made a weird hiccuping sound in his throat as Vince took half of him down in a single gulp. He pulled back, then swallowed Sacsha down to the root, and the other man clasped a hand over his mouth to keep quiet. It made Vince chuckle, which made Sacsha keen behind his hand. Vince pulled back again, lapping at the head while Sacsha regained a bit of composure. It was oddly gratifying to see how much Sacsha was enjoying his ministrations. It turned Vince on more than he expected as well, but it wasn't the first time he'd been revved up with no way to come, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Gareth may have expected Vince to engage in some activity with his co-models, but he didn't think Gareth would appreciate him letting himself be fucked bareback by someone he didn't know.

It was a shame. He thought Sacsha could be a lot more fun than his clients. Even as he lapped at Sacsha's cock and teased him, the other man gently stroked his hair or his face, clearly wanting to return the favor. Vince wondered if this was the difference between being with someone and fucking them. Even in this circumstance, where Sacsha could do little to reciprocate, it was obvious that he _wanted_ to.

Pushing the useless ruminations aside, Vince slowly swallowed Sacsha, looking up at him. Sacsha looked wrecked, barely holding himself under control. He moaned, deep in his throat, and the sound went straight to Vince's cock. But this wasn't about himself. He pulled back, tickling the underside of the head with the tip of his tongue, eyes never leaving Sacsha, even as his own eyes clenched shut and he bit his hand to keep quiet.

Vince backed off again, laving the column of the cock and giving the head a rest. Sacsha's eyes opened again, and he gasped, "Please, let me do you too."

Chuckling against the side of Sacsha's cock, enjoying making it jump and watching Sacsha's stomach clench, Vince shook his head. "I don't think I can get to it without stripping down entirely. Let me do this for you. Don't hold back. Come for me," he said, and dove back down, sucking hard and working his throat like the master he was. He didn't need tricks to control his gag reflex these days. He effectively didn't have one anymore. He reached his tongue out, taking Sacsha that little bit deeper as he tongued Sacsha's sac--and that was the last straw. With a harsh, almost choking sound, Sacsha came hard, clutching Vince's head to his crotch.

Vince gently eased away, continuing to suckle as he did so, and Sacsha let him. He fell from Vince's mouth, and Vince lapped the last droplets of come away before he was yanked up by his underarms and being thoroughly kissed. Sacsha drove his tongue into Vince's mouth as if chasing the taste of his own come, and the kiss was almost as arousing as the blowjob had been.

The need for breath caused Sacsha to slow and gentle the kiss, soft gasps between them as he caught his breath. Vince eased back into the water--the tail really was awkward anywhere else--and rested his head on Sacsha's inner thigh.

Sacsha muttered something that didn't sound like English and finished with, "Can you teach me to do that?"

Vince laughed at the unexpected question. He pulled himself up a little, crossing his arms so the elbows rested on top of Sacsha's thighs, and he laid his head on the arms. "I can give you tips, if you really want them."

"I'd love to return the favor." Sacsha stroked a hand over Vince's damp hair.

"It really isn't necessary." He leaned into the touch.

"If you're sure...."

"I am. Very. It was my pleasure."

And it was true.  
  


* * *

They rejoined the rest of the crew. Vince got out of the tail long enough to go to the bathroom, dry off, and eat for a bit. Then it was back into the tail, more makeup, more pictures. The makeup was different this time, because the pictures would be different. They took pictures from the basement, Vince swimming down as deep as he could, looking out longingly at Sacsha and Caroline, the three of them reaching for one another through the glass. The day ended on the shallow shore of the pond, the three of them entwined, Sacsha and Caroline both opting to be naked to recreate the position of the threesome in Liz's painting.

It wasn't a surprise that Sacsha got hard during the shoot. He pressed up against Vince's ass, just barely teasing him through the material of the fin. Vince couldn't decide what was more tortuous--having Sacsha pressing up behind him but unable to penetrate, or having Caroline pressed to his front, encouraging him to handle her breasts, but his cock trapped by the fin. He writhed helplessly against them, forgetting where they were and why they were doing this.

Then he was shocked when he felt hands find their way into the fin both in front and behind. Apparently there were hidden slits it the tail, and Caroline's dainty hand guided his cock out while Sacsha pressed his fingers in, finding and teasing Vince's hole.

Torn between them, Vince whimpered.

Caroline produced a condom from somewhere, sliding it down over his cock as Sacsha pressed close behind him and worked to slick him up.

"Shhh, I have a condom too," he hushed, then paused. "If you don't want this, tell us now," Sacsha said. He began to let go, but Vince reached behind himself and grabbed Sacsha's wrist, stopping him.

"Don't." He opened his eyes and looked into Caroline's. "Don't stop," he said, then looked over his shoulder to meet Sacsha's eyes. "I want this. Please."

Sacsha leaned over to give him a deep kiss, continuing to press fingers into him even as Caroline pulled herself forward to seat him within her.

He gasped, then said, "Please, Sacsha. I'm good. I need you." For a moment, nothing more happened. " _Please_."

Sacsha's fingers fell away to be quickly replaced with Sacsha's length. Even if he understood the necessity, Vince wished they could forego the condoms. The plastic on his walls dulled the sensation of having a warm, throbbing cock in him. Sacsha pressed in slowly--far too slowly--and Vince thrust back, taking his entire length. He pulled Caroline closer to him, so they were all curled up together. She kissed his cheeks and forehead before searching out his mouth again. Kissing Caroline was different than kissing men. She was gentler, more yielding. He thrilled at the weight of her breast in his hand, pinched the nipple gently until he felt her tighten around him and she squeaked against his mouth.

Sacsha put a hand on his hip and then began to move them all. Filling and being filled, it was transcendent. So different from how sex had always been for Vince. Sachsa and Caroline both clearly put as much work into pleasing their partners as pleasing themselves. Vince abandoned himself to it, to the warmth and softness of Caroline, to the strength of Sacsha. Vince teased Caroline with his fingers, tickling her clit, even as he stroked within her, driving her pleasure higher until she was bucking against him, coming. It apparently set Sacsha off, because he gave a few final sharp, hard thrusts before coming in Vince, more than long enough to set off Vince's trigger. Vince let himself come.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope no one is disappointed to have the pretense at a plot in there. Again, if you could continue to be generous with kudos and or comments in light of AO3 not tracking guest hits, that'd be amazing.


	4. A Car Ride

As he came down from his orgasm, he realized there should have been crew around. How had he forgotten?

Caroline snuggled into him, and mumbled into his chest, "They left. Don't worry."

"They... left?" he asked.

Sacsha slipped out of him, sending a little thrill through him, but he stayed cuddled up tightly to Vince's back. "It's apparently pretty common for Liz's models to end up... well." He chuckled. "To end up like this. She has a knack for picking compatible people." He seemed to be trying to crawl into Vince's skin. "Though, dammit, I wish we were in a bed. The water's getting cold."

As if on cue, Caroline shivered in front of him. Not surprising, what with the sun going--

"I think there's a hot tub--"

"Shit!" Vince sat up, untangling himself. How had he not noticed that the sun was setting? What the hell time was it? He pulled the condom off himself and began fighting with tail to undo it.

"Cat! You're okay!"

"It's late--how did I not realize it was this late?" He scrambled for the zipper in the tail so he could get up and go back to the prep area, ignoring Caroline and Sacsha. When he got there, Gareth was sitting with Liv, looking comfortable and lazy. When his eyes lighted on Vince, they grew hungry, predatory.

“Are we done?” he asked Liv.

She smiled up at him, and he’d find it calming if he didn’t remember the _hour_ ride to get there. “Yes, I’m more than satisfied. Thank you so much for your help, Cat. I just need your release to allow me to release any photographs from the shoot.” She pushed a piece of paper over to him.

“I’ve looked through it. You can sign it—with your legal name,” Gareth assured, picking up a pen and holding it toward him.

Whatever got him out of there faster. Vince took the pen and signed on the line. “My clothes?” he asked Liv.

She pointed toward the screen from earlier, and his clothing was still thrown over the top. He dashed behind the screen, pulling off the tail and his own clothes on quickly, the shirt snagging on some of the pearls in his hair. It was going to take forever to get all of these off.

“We’ll have the pearls returned to you, Liv,” he heard Gareth say and sighed in relief.

Caroline and Sacsha came up behind him, both barely clothed and both clearly still enjoying the afterglow. He excused himself, giving them quick hugs, and accepting a kiss from both before following Gareth to the car. He paused, blinking stupidly at it because Gareth had driven them there, but apparently he’d hired a small limo to drive them back.

Gareth didn’t hesitate to shuffle him into the back of the limo, following him in and pulling the door closed.

“What—?”

“Strip,” Gareth told him coolly, and the smoldering heat in his eyes before was now burning. Vince glanced around, saw they were blacked out from the driver, but before he can start unbuttoning his shirt, Gareth grabbed the shirt and pulled him close. “If I want to fuck you while the driver watches, _I will_ , am I clear?” he demanded.

“Yes,” Vince said, eyes downcast.

“ _Yes_?”

“Yes, Master,” Vince corrected.

“ _Strip_.”

Vince wanted to argue. He didn’t want to be fucked right then, wanted to complain about how late he’d be getting back to Amelie, but he knew from the way Gareth was looking at him, if he complained, he wouldn’t get to see Amelie at all. He pulled off his shoes first, followed by socks, no real way of making it sexy in the confined space, so he tried to do it quickly. He was still covered in glitter—given how little of it had washed off, he was going to have to think up some good reason to explain it to Amelie. Gareth would be of no help. He didn’t care what Vince told his sister.

“Array,” Gareth said when Vince was naked.

He managed not to sigh and followed the instruction, arraying himself on the floor of the limo, the position itself beginning to sink him into the submissive headspace that Gareth loved so much.

Gareth’s shoed foot tapped the inside of Vince’s naked thigh. “Wider.” Vince shifted, but got tapped again. “ _Wider_.” Vince shifted again, legs spread wide enough that he could feel the muscles stretching. With proper warming up, he could do splits, but he wasn’t anywhere near there at the moment. “ _There_ ,” Gareth said, his voice dropping in both pleasure and arousal. Vince’s cock twitched. “Such a good kitten.” He wasn’t sure if it was the praise or Gareth’s own arousal that made him react, but his dick began to plump, and Vince was suddenly aware of being empty. Playing like this always made him aware of it, made it an itch that was never soothed until scratched, as if his ass’s default state should be _filled_.

He was shaken out of his thoughts by the flash and click of a camera phone going off. He looked up and stared at Gareth, aghast.

If not for the heat in his eyes, Gareth would have looked bored. “What, kitten? You thought only Liv was allowed to take erotic images of you?”

Vince ducked his head, ashamed. God _forbid_ that picture ever—

He cut the thought off and had to choke down a laugh. Of _course_. That’s why Gareth was taking it—collateral. Blackmail. Just another chain to bind Vince to him.

Gareth opened his legs. “Come here, kitten,” he said, opening his pants and pulling out his hard cock. “I want to fuck that throat.”

He didn’t hesitate, and his mouth even watered, as if sucking Gareth’s dick was some kind of treat. He lapped at the head briefly, just wetting the head to make it go down easier, but Gareth set the phone aside, taking his base and aiming it, even as his other hand pressed at the back of Vince’s neck. “ _All_ the way, kitten,” he growled, barely allowing Vince a deep breath before pulling Vince’s head forward until his nose was buried in Gareth’s pubic hair. He thrashed for a moment, not fully prepared, but Gareth held him still, and he didn’t dare bite. He swallowed frantically around Gareth’s length, and Gareth groaned, the hand that had been holding his cock stroking Vince’s hair. “Yes, that’s it, kitten. Milk me with that throat.”

Just as spots were beginning to dance behind Vince’s eyes, Gareth let him off. He coughed and gasped, a hand going to his throat. It felt bruised from the inside. He could feel Gareth’s eyes on him like a physical weight as he got his breath again.

“Again, kitten,” he demanded. Vince took a deep breath and didn’t dare hesitate even to prep it this time. As soon as he took the breath, he dove back down, taking Gareth’s length much more smoothly this time, swallowing around it like he knew Gareth loved. Gareth reached down to rub at the front of Vince’s throat. He loved the way it felt to stroke himself from the outside as Vince massaged him with his throat. Vince hated it—the extra pressure closed off what little air he could usually get, strangling him on Gareth’s cock. But he didn’t fight it, tapping on Gareth’s thigh to let him know when air was becoming a problem again. Gareth let him off again, but he tangled a hand in Vince’s hair, refusing to let him go far. Vince’s chest heaved as he regained his breath, and Gareth stroked his hair. He only distantly realized Gareth was pulling all the beads and pearls out of his hair, putting them into his pocket. When he seemed satisfied, he told Vince, “Up. You’re going to ride me.”

Vince followed the order on autopilot, straddling Gareth, positioning his length, and automatically lowering himself onto it. He was still relatively loose from that morning and from having Sacsha fuck him, so Gareth slid home easily. Vince held his shoulders as he moaned softly. Gareth hummed in pleasure, petting Vince’s ass. “Such a good kitten,” he said. “You take me so well.” He thrust hard and deep, hitting Vince’s trigger, but the restriction around his cock didn’t give. “You’ve had your fun today, pet,” Gareth said as Vince rested his forehead on Gareth’s shoulder. “I turned off your trigger, so you won’t be able to cum again until I turn it back on—which won’t be tonight.”

Vince groaned into his shoulder. He had no idea why he forgot that Gareth could do that—maybe because he did it so rarely. Gareth rolled his hips, and it was sweet torture, knowing he wouldn’t be able to come. Gareth picked the phone back up and handed it to Vince, making him realize it was the phone that Amelie had the number to. Gareth thrust up, and Vince gasped.

“I texted your sister to let her know you were delayed, but you should also call. She has called a couple times.”

 _What_? Vince’s heart sank, trying to imagine it. “You want me to call her…” He cut off as a particularly sharp thrust nailed his prostate.

“While I fuck you?” Gareth finished his thought. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

Vince tried to stare at him in horror, but it was hard when his body was being expertly played. “No, please,” he begged. Gareth thrust up again, and Vince keened in his throat.

“You’re telling me _no_?” Gareth demanded, and Vince knew that tone, knew what a fine line he was walking.

“Please, Master,” he tried instead. “I’ll do anything, please…”

Gareth grabbed a handful of his hair, and pulled, forcing Vince’s back into a harsh arch, also increasing the depth of his penetration. “You will do anything I tell you anyway,” Gareth tells him, voice gravely with both arousal and exertion.

The pain in his hair and back along with the horror of the thought of trying to talk to Amelie like this made tears spring to his eyes. He didn’t realize that his cock had started softening despite the penetration until Gareth’s other hand took it and began to pump it, even as he changed to lazily rolling his hips. “It really bothers you, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“ _Yes_ ,” Vince answered, not ashamed of the whimper in his voice, his emotions entirely scrambled from the pleasure of penetration and the hand job and the still-lingering terror of trying to talk to Amelie in this state.

Gareth stilled and released him, and he slumped forward with sob. “I’m going to hold you to that _anything_ , kitten,” Gareth told him, his hand going back up to pet Vince’s hair. He was still hard inside Vince, but it was… ignorable for the moment.

“Yes, Master,” Vince agreed readily. “Thank you, Master.” He wiped his tears away and placed a gentle kiss on Gareth’s neck.

“You will call your sister, _with me inside you_ , kitten. But I won’t move until you’re done.”

Vince pulled back as if slapped. He opened his mouth to protest and stopped when he saw the resolve on Gareth’s face. It was the best he was going to get, and if Vince said another word, Gareth was likely to call Amelie and put her on speakerphone as he fucked Vince out of his mind. He closed his mouth, bowed his head, and said, “Thank you, Master,” instead.

Gareth ran a hand up his back. “Such a good kitten.”

Despite everything, the petting and stupid words settled him. “Can I have a minute to figure out what to tell her?” he asked.

“Sure, kitten.”

* * *

In the end, Vince told Amelie what was basically the truth—he had a side opportunity to model that ran late. It was the best explanation as to why he was still covered in glitter and even had some prosthetics on his hands and nails. He’d have to deal with getting those off when he had more time.

True to his word, Gareth stayed still while Vince talked to Amelie. As soon as Vince hung up, Gareth had him turn around on his lap so Vince’s back was to Gareth’s chest. From there, he spread Vince’s legs as wide as he could in the car and told Vince to use his ass to milk Gareth until he came. Vince _had_ done it before, but it required a lot of concentration and was exhausting. Still, he didn’t have an option. Gareth made it even more maddening by producing a sound from somewhere and fucking his dick with it, ensuring he didn’t leak, even as he drove them both crazy milking Gareth’s cock.

When Gareth finally came, the hard, exacting thrusts to Vince’s prostate sent him into a dry orgasm. By the time he came back to himself, the limo was parked outside his building, his dick had been stoppered. He felt drugged, dizzy, boneless. Gareth maneuvered him like a doll, folding his legs closed, moving him off his cock, bending him over Gareth’s lap. He was barely aware of what Gareth was doing until he felt something at his entrance.

The weight of Gareth’s hand at the small of his back calmed him. “Relax, kitten. You did well. Just a reminder.” He pushed the plug, or toy—Vince hadn’t seen it, so wasn’t sure which it was—inside. It began thin and got wider was it was pushed in. When it kept going until it stretched deeper than Vince was used to, he squirmed. “A little more, kitten. You’re doing so well.” He pushed it the rest of the way in, and Vince felt his guard muscle close after widest part passed. He groaned, oversensitive, still hard, and something that long, though not unusually wide, would force him into perfect posture all night. Gareth twisted the handle, pushing it in, so a curved tip was pushing right into his perineum, another, longer prong rested comfortably between his asscheeks. Sitting on the thing would be _torment_. Gareth pushed on it several times, just to watch Vince writhe on his lap from the stimulation, before running his hand over Vince’s back again.

“Very, very good, kitten,” he praised, giving a final press on it before slapping Vince’s ass, and not gently. It made him clench, which made the toy move, and, _fuck_ , his ability to think around the cloud of arousal was quickly waning. “Get dressed, pet. You’ll keep both of those in you all night.”

Feeling drunk, Vince sat up and began reaching for his clothing, being careful to kneel and not sit on the plug. He was finishing buttoning up his shirt when he realized the plug in his cock would stop something else. The thought cleared his head enough to look up at Gareth.

“If you need to remove that plug,” Gareth says, reaching between Vince’s legs to squeeze his still hard length, “You will facetime me as you do it.” He grins. “Might want to wait till your sister is asleep.”

Vince wanted to protest, but he was sure this is part of the “anything” he promised Gareth earlier, so he kept his mouth closed. Gareth ruffled his hair like he’s an animal. “Such a good kitten.”

Praise might have a disturbing effect on Vince, but that stupid baby voice does not. “Yes, Master,” he says instead.

“Sit so you can put your shoes and socks back on,” Gareth commanded, and Vince didn’t mistake it as anything but. Reluctantly, he sat on leather, and the way it pushed the plug in deeper and shoved that curved tip into his perineum make him gasp. “Shoes and socks, kitten,” Gareth reminded him. “Unless you’re coming home with me.”

Vince actually considered it for a moment. Being at home with Amelie, doing his damnedest not to let her know anything unusual was going on was going to be torture, which was the point, of course. But Vince wasn’t letting him win this round by default. He bent forward to pull his sock on, and _fuck_ , that jammed the tip right into his perineum, and it was like a shock straight to his prostate. He knew he’d be leaking if his cock weren’t stoppered, and was suddenly relieved.

He rocked forward again to pull on the next sock, and Gareth pushed his neck down, which in turn forced the tip of the toy—

Vince fell over into a dry orgasm, even as Gareth continued to hold him there, driving that curved tip deeper, dragging the orgasm out until Vince’s throat was dry and raw from gasping and whining.

“Shoes still, kitten,” Gareth said.

If it had been a remote option, Vince would have walked up to the apartment barefoot. The tip against his taint was the biggest issue, but bending over also made the plug shift weirdly, doubling the pressure on his prostate, bouncing off where Vince knew his trigger was, and he was conditioned to expect release when his trigger was pressed. Not getting it wound him up even more, despite the dry orgasms.

“God, kitten,” Gareth breathed out. He pulled Vince onto his lap and kissed him, hard, claiming, thrusting his tongue deep into Vince’s mouth as if he could lick his throat from the inside. While he did, he pressed at the handle of the plug and squeezed Vince’s cock through his pants, teasing until Vince dry orgasmed _again_. Gareth wasn’t hard yet, but his pupils swallowed the blue of his eyes, and made Vince nervous. Gareth being that turned on, especially when he couldn’t get hard yet, wasn’t typically a good thing for Vince. Gareth pushed hard on the plug until Vince thrashed in his arms, unable to handle the stimulation. “When you get ready for bed, kitten, call me— _video on_ ,” he said, and Vince felt him slide a phone into Vince’s back pocket. “You said anything? We’ll see how much you mean that.”

He finally let Vince go, and Vince pulled his shoes over, sliding his feet into them, unwilling to bend again. He didn’t wait to be dismissed, getting out of the car. Standing changed the way the massive plug sat again, and Vince had to stop and use the hood of the limo to gather himself. He used the time to run a shaking hand through his hair, settling it. He couldn’t imagine he looked anything other than well-fucked, and he almost canceled on Amelie because of it. He didn’t want her to see him like this, to even chance putting the idea of him selling himself in her mind.

Maybe if she asked, he could deflect it as a fling with his co-models? The thought brought Caroline and Sacsha to mind, and he remembered the soft weight of Caroline’s breasts, the tenderness in Sacsha’s touch, their honest and simple attraction. It was far from the most intense sex he’d ever experienced, downright mundane, but he wished he could have stayed with them longer.

The trunk of the car popped, and Gareth’s voice came from within the limo, even though he didn’t stick his head out. “Presents for your sister’s birthday tomorrow,” he said. “Don’t forget about your appointment. I expect you at noon.”

“Yes, Master,” Vince conceded, finally steady enough to walk. He shut the door and went to the back to pull out half a dozen bags bearing designer labels, and a cake from one of the most expensive bakeries in the city. He found the button to automatically close the trunk after he had all the bags out, and pressed it, walking around to the entrance.

Walking was… special, though not unbearable. The doorman held the door for him. “Good evening, Mr. Safinov,” he greeted.

“Good evening, Juan,” Vince returned, pleased he passed the first test when Juan gave him only the barest curious look, and it was probably because he was still covered in opalescent glitter.

“Do you need a hand, Mr. Safinov?”

“I think I’ve got it. Thanks though.”

“If I don’t see her, please pass my birthday wishes to Ms. Safinov,” he added.

“I will, Juan. Thank you.”

Once safely in the elevator, he leaned against the wall and just concentrated on staying still and breathing. He might have gotten past Juan, but Amelie was an entirely different league. The elevator dinged and he walked, every muscle controlled, to their apartment, where he realized he had a different problem. He didn’t remember grabbing his key. Chances were good that Gareth had put it in his pocket with the phone, but his hands were so full, he couldn’t look for it easily.

Amelie must have been waiting for him, because she opened the door before he could fumble around.

“You are late, late, _late_!” she proclaimed, and seeing her safe and healthy eased the stress he’d been feeling.

He held up the bags. “I come bearing gifts?” he suggested.

Because it was Amelie, of course she zeroed in on the cake first. “Vitya!” She used the Russian diminutive their father used to call him. “You didn’t have to!” She took it from him and backed out of his way, letting him follow her in. “And look at you. You look—” she cut off, tilting her head and really looking at him. “You look like a fairy or something—like a literal fairy.”

Vince laughed, and it felt good to honestly laugh. If he ever doubted what he was doing, all he had to do was look at Amelie to firm his resolve. She could never know, but protecting her was worth every perverted, degrading thing he did.

The cake went into the fridge. Amelie had plates of casserole reheated, which made Vince realize he was starving. He all but inhaled the plate while Amelie teased him. It was odd to be able to talk about the day with her, describing Liz and Caroline and Sacsha, the mansion and its interior gardens. There wasn’t any point in hiding it if the pictures were going to be made public, and except for the sex, there wasn’t anything he’d done that he couldn’t share with her.

“Maybe if this works out, you can quit working for your boss,” she suggested, a generous slice of her cake in front of her, even though it was a day early. Vince stood at the island with a much smaller piece for himself, wondering if he even wanted it. Now that he’d been fed, exhaustion had set in hard, and it was all he could do to stay on his feet. Both the swimming and sex had zapped him, and even eating the cake seemed to take more energy than he had to give. He had scrubbed his hands after inhaling his dinner, getting most of the prosthetics off, but he probably also need a thorough scrubbing to try and get the glitter off.

And Gareth wanted him to call before he went to bed.

He pushed Gareth out of his mind. “Do you want to open your gifts tonight?” he asked, a bite of cake on his fork, but he hadn’t raised it to eat it yet, even though Amelie’s serving was almost done.

“Are you going to be late again tomorrow?” she asked, a little crestfallen.

“I shouldn’t be,” he assured. He’d _better_ not be. All he had tomorrow was the test hour or two with Mr. Le Roi. He should be fine. Even if it went over, he should be late.

“Are you really just going to play with that?” she asked, deciding to take the assurance at face value.

“It might be a day early, but I _suppose_ you can have a second piece,” he said, pushing the plate her way and giving up on pretending to eat it.

She nearly pounced on it, then seemed to think better of it. “I really shouldn’t…”

Vince raised an eyebrow, teasing her. “It’s you’re birthday. It’s not like you’re doing this every day. Take the stairs the rest of the week instead o the elevator, if you’re _that_ worried about it,” he said.

She met his eyes and smiled. “You’re right.” She took a bite. “It’s not every day you turn eighteen.”

He remembered her being far younger and more fragile. “No,” he agreed. “It’s definitely not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is me, admitting I'm a sucker for all this lovely feedback. The frankly astonishing number of kudos has made me start writing this thing again (filling out places I skipped because I was moving on to other scenes), so hoped you liked the new stuff. I will unabashedly ask that you keep it coming because it's definitely driving the muse.


	5. As Master Commands

He lasted about twenty more minutes before he was fading so quickly, Amelie sent him to bed, saying she’d open her presents tomorrow. Vince retreated to his room with its master bath—an insistence of Gareth’s when he’d been apartment shopping. He locked both his bedroom door and the bathroom door. He considered how urgently he needed to go—and it wasn’t that pressing a need at the moment, so he decided to take a shower and scrub all of the glitter off before calling Gareth.

He probably scrubbed for the better part of forty-five minutes, but glitter was still coming off and he was exhausted. He had gotten the last of the prosthetics off at least. He’d take the win where he could at the moment. The plugs in his ass and dick both worked to keep his arousal at a low level, even through his exhaustion, which was just the icing on the cake.

Out of the shower, a towel run through his hair to get the worst of the water out, and dried off, he finally bit the bullet and called Gareth. He honestly didn’t know how much longer it would be before he passed out, and if he passed out before calling Gareth, he was _sure_ he’d regret it.

“I’m not sure if it’s later than I expected or earlier,” Gareth said upon answering. His camera was blank, but his voice came through clearly. “You look tired, kitten.”

Vince repressed the urge to tell Gareth why the day had been so exhausting. Gareth didn’t care anyway. “Master, you asked I call you if I needed to use the restroom,” he said, too tired to play Gareth’s games. “May I?”

Gareth hummed. “May you what, kitten? Be _very_ specific.”

If Vince managed not to roll his eyes, it was just because even that took more energy than he had right then.

“May I remove the urethral plug from my penis so I can urinate?” he asked, knowing what Gareth was actually looking for and tired enough to be a little petty and steal his thunder.

Since he couldn’t see Gareth’s face, he couldn’t see his reaction, but he could imagine his irritation.

“What if I told you ‘no,’ kitten?” Gareth asked, voice dark and full of arousal. “What if I told you it pleases me to imagine your bladder stuffed and aching, to know that when you get home to me tomorrow, you’ll piss yourself the moment your plug is removed?”

Vince closed his eyes and made himself calm. “Is that what you want, Master?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral. He knew that he didn’t get a vote in this, and expressing his opinion or feelings on the matter didn’t matter. It was best to focus on what Gareth wanted in these circumstances.

He waited patiently until Gareth huffed. “It would serve you fucking right if I did,” Gareth hissed. “You can unplug your dick and piss, kitten, but I want to watch.”

Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Vince set the towel he’d had around his waist aside and set the phone in such a way that Gareth could see at least Vince’s whole torso and dick. Gareth liked to control this when Vince was with him, and he’d had several rounds of what Gareth called “deep submission” training, during which he hadn’t been allowed to piss except with Gareth’s permission, with Gareth’s hand on his dick.

Phone situated, Vince gripped his half-hard dick and slid the ring off the head.

“Slowly, kitten,” Gareth said, as if Vince needed the direction. He couldn’t play too much or he’d be too hard to pee at all, but he knew that Gareth would want a show.

Vince pulled it out slowly as directed. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to feeling his dick stimulated from inside.

“Kitten, you look a little hard.”

“Yes, Master,” he agreed, because he was.

Gareth hummed again. “I think a little punishment is in order, kitten.” Vince shuddered at the thought, not sure if he anticipated or dreaded it. “Make your tap water as cold as it can go and fill a cup with it.”

Oh fuck. This wasn’t the kind of punishment that a twisted part of Vince enjoyed, but he didn’t argue. Well, he knew he wasn’t coming tonight anyway. He leaned over, running the tap as cold as it could go, then grabbed a clean cup he kept next to the sink, and filled it before stepping back into the frame.

“Good. Now I want you to drop your balls into it, kitten.”

Vince wasn’t really surprised at the order, but he still sucked in a breath. He didn’t dare hesitate though. He moved the mug to between his legs, adjusted his ballsack until it hung over the cup, then sank his balls into it. He gasped at the feeling, and his balls immediately tried to crawl back up into his body to get away while his dick deflated rapidly.

“Keep it there until I tell you, kitten.”

He forced himself to breathe through it, hating how it felt, how the coolness stole the warmth of his shower, making him feel cold all over.

“Such a beautiful, obedient kitten.”

Warmth bloomed in his chest, even as he began to shiver.

“Okay, kitten, it looks like you’re soft enough now. You can put the cup down and piss now.”

Vince did as commanded, relieved to empty his bladder, even if he didn’t think he’d ever understand why Gareth enjoyed watching him do it.

“Okay, kitten. Clean up now—the sound too—and go to your room. Set the sound on a plate. I don’t want you putting it back in. When you’re in your room, I want you to be ready on your bed—spread wide for me. Turn on the video in the TV and call me back. I trust you remember how to,” Gareth said.

Damn it. Vince didn’t want to play. Gareth had “gifted” him a smart TV that could be used to video call, and he’d insisted it get pride of place and a perfect view of the bed. Vince hated the thing, hated that it constantly reminded him that even in his own room and in his own bed, he was not his own. He rarely had time to watch TV, forget any streaming services, so he didn’t ever use it except at times like this.

Sighing, he hung up and did as asked, flushing the toilet, washing his hands, pulling out a plate set aside for things exactly like this and setting the cleaned sound on it, before taking the phone and retreating to his room. He pulled out some lube and set it on the bed next to the plate with the sound before climbing onto the bed. Bending at all made him hyper aware of the large toy within him, and by the time he’d managed to settle himself on the bed, propped up by pillows, legs spread wide, displaying all his private parts, his cock was more than half filled. He sighed, lifting his hips a final time to tuck a spare pillow under them, and used the phone to turn on and dial into the video chatting feature. He’d also grabbed a wireless headset he had specifically for this, so Amelie wouldn’t be able to hear Gareth’s voice.

This time, when the video came up, Gareth’s face was there.

“Nicely done, kitten,” Gareth said, his eyes hungrily moving over Vince’s prone form as if he were there. “How does that toy feel?” he asked.

“Deep,” Vince admitted, knowing better than to try to mince words when Gareth was like this.

“We’ll get to that in a bit. First, let’s stuff that pretty cock of yours back up. I hope you emptied yourself fully—you won’t get to go again until my hand is holding your cock.”

“Yes, Master,” he agreed.

“What’s gotten you hard again, kitten?” Gareth asked.

Vince shifted, and the way he was positioned made the toy rub at his prostate from both within and without, which made him moan softly even as his cock got harder. “The toy, Master.”

“Does it feel good, kitten?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Does it fill your empty cunt?"

Vince closed his eyes and hesitated before answering, “Yes, Master.”

He could hear the smile in Gareth’s voice when he said, “You don’t like it when I call your ass a cunt, do you, kitten?” He didn’t wait for a response before continuing. “I don’t see why. Its only use is to be fucked and bring you pleasure, just like a good cunt should.”

“Yes, Master,” Vince said, resigned.

“Admit it, kitten, you love to have your cunt filled. Love having it stretched. You love having a big cock inside you.”

The words and the feelings they brought to mind, made Vince harden even further. It was true—he really did love being fucked. It was getting to the point that if he went a day without having something in his ass, he got agitated. It didn’t happen often, but it did happen, and recently, he’d noticed that it felt _wrong_ to be wholly empty for too long.

“Tell me, kitten,” Gareth commanded. “I want to hear you talk about how much you need your cunt filled, and why you prefer a man’s cock to your toys.”

Vince shuddered, getting fully hard, his cock rising straight from his lap as if raising a hand to agree with Gareth. “Yes, Master.”

“Yes, what, kitten?”

“Yes, Master, I love being filled.”

“Filled where, kitten?”

“In my… cunt, Master.”

When he glanced through his eyelashes, he wasn’t surprised to see Gareth’s smug smile.

“And what do you love to have in your cunt, kitten?”

“Anything, Master.”

“Anything? I’ll have to put that to the test.”

Vince should have been worried about it, but talking like this, being commanded like this, was making his head fuzzier, especially in his exhaustion. That part of him that just wanted to please people got so _loud_ when he was like this.

“Whatever you want, Master.”

“Tell me more, kitten. I know you like being filled with a cock better than toys. Why?”

He couldn’t resist thrusting his hips, even though it didn’t move the plug much and did nothing for his cock. “Because it’s warm, Master,” he breathed out. “Toys feel good, but there’s nothing like man’s cock.”

“Why, kitten? I want to know exactly why.”

Vince’s dick throbbed with need that would be denied, and his ass clenched around the toy in it. “There’s nothing like it,” he said, thinking about the warmth, the unique way his body seemed to mold to a man’s cock, invite velvet-sheathed steel. He thought about the warmth of a man’s body pressed against his, the weight of a man bending him over, the weight of his balls against Vince’s own.

“I want your words, kitten,” Gareth said. “I see that pretty cock of yours bobbing. Tell me everything you’re thinking about.”

Sinking deeper into the _need-to-please_ place, Vince began to say what he’d been thinking.

“Do you like to be petted and touched, pretty kitten?” Gareth asked.

“Yes,” Vince admitted.

“Do you like to be called pretty, pretty kitten?” Gareth asked.

“Yes, Master.”

“What do you like more, kitten: having your dick sucked or your cunt fucked?”

“…cunt fucked, Master,” he said in a small voice. After all, as good as a blow job felt, he couldn’t come from it, and he almost never had a dry orgasm triggered from his dick alone. His dick was secondary to his ass.

Gareth groaned low in his ear, and Vince could imagine him jacking himself off as he talked to Vince.

“Could I talk you to an orgasm, kitten? It seems like it, watching you like this. I’ll have to try it some time. I’ve heard some slaves are so well-trained, they can come on demand.”

Vince gasped, feeling a thrill run through him at the thought. Could he do that? Could Gareth train him to do that?

“Is your pretty clit leaking, kitten?” Gareth asked.

“Yes, Master.”

Gareth hmmed, expression curious except for the smoldering heat in his eyes. “I want you to suck yourself off, kitten.”

_Wait, what?_

“You’ve been doing your yoga for a year, religiously, haven’t you? You should be able to reach that pretty clit all on your own now.”

“I… I don’t know,” Vince admitted.

“Do it, kitten. It’s an order, not a request. Submit.”

 _Submit_. That word, said in that particular unyielding tone, always drained all of Vince’s will to do anything but what the person asking demanded. Could a word be a drug? He felt like he was in a haze as he leaned forward, stretching with care. His back popped and his neck strained, but honestly, he’d noticed in some of his poses that he probably _could_ suck his own dick. Especially with it at full mast, it virtually begged to be sucked.

“That’s it, kitten, pull your legs back. I’ve seen you stretch. I’m sure you can get those knees behind your shoulders.”

Vince did as instructed, and just like that, he was about as exposed and open as possible, but his dick was now in easy reach of his mouth, and Gareth groaned at the sight. “That’s it, kitten. Start lapping the head like the kitten you are.” Vince did, the taste of precum mixing with the lube from earlier, but Gareth made a point to use lube that was safe to consume for reasons exactly like this. “Keep lapping, kitten. Like your clit’s a popsicle. Lick up the sides, as close to the base as you can get.”

The position caused the plug inside him to shift, putting pressure on his prostate again, making his dick leak even more. He knew without being told that he shouldn’t let a drop of his precum escape.

“So good, kitten. I’m sorry we didn’t try this sooner. Take it in, kitten. I want to see how much of your clit you can swallow.”

Vince took his head in and began to inch his way down his dick. He wasn’t as generously endowed as Gareth, but he was a more than respectable eight inches when he was fully hard and pencil straight, which helped right now. Sucking his own dick felt more like giving a blow job than getting it. The awkwardness of the position and his attention on following orders overwhelming his own enjoyment.

Gareth moaned when Vince got deep enough to hit his gag reflex. The way he was bent and how hard and straight his dick were meant that getting his dick down his throat was going to take some trial and error if he didn’t want to make himself throw up.

“ _Yes_ , kitten. Take that dick. Get it into your throat, pet. Swallow around it. I want to see you take it all, see your face when your dick is fucking your own throat.”

His dick throbbed and somehow got even harder in his mouth, more precum filled his mouth, but he pressed forward. He gagged again, because the angle was not right for this and the right angle for deep throating was necessary.

“Do it, kitten. I don’t care if you gag on it, I want that dick in your throat.”

Vince tried again, unable to resist the command. This time, he caught it just right to start swallowing around it, taking it deeper.

“Fuck, kitten, that’s so hot. Take it deeper, kitten. It’s not your cock in your mouth, it’s mine. Make me feel good, kitten.”

The mental image made him moan around the dick in his throat, which felt so good, he did it again, caught in a feedback loop. Distantly, he could hear Gareth still speaking, encouraging, saying filthy things, and he began to rock back and forth, trying to get the cock deeper and deeper. The discomfort of the position faded from his awareness; the only space he had in his thoughts was for following his Master’s voice in his ear.

The cock was fucking his throat, gagging him when he missed his target, making it raw and sore, but those things barely registered.

“So, so good, kitten,” his Master’s voice praised, and some part of Vince realized it was flavored with the breathiness of cumming. He had made his Master cum. The satisfaction of it settled into him like a deep warmth. “That’s it, kitten. Time to calm down. Lick that pretty cock clean, kitten. Yes, just like that, lap up all your spit and your leakage. It’s so good, isn’t it? You love the taste of cum, the smell of a man’s spend. They make your mouth water and your cunt ache, don’t they?”

He had no words, so he just nodded enthusiastically even as he kept licking the leaking pre from the dick.

“Okay, that’s good, kitten,” his Master said, his breathing evening back out. “You can unfold now, lean back.”

Vince did so, feeling his back and neck crack as he did so, but they were minor annoyances.

“Time to fill that pretty cock again, kitten. Get your sound.”

He nodded and reached for the sound.

“You should be wet enough for that pretty jewelry to slide right in, kitten. Go ahead, hold your dick, kitten, and let me see as your pisshole is filled.”

Vince followed the instructions as if he had no will of his own, not hesitating or teasing, just taking the sound and pressing it inside his dick. Like most of the ones Vince was familiar with, it had a larger, mushroom-shaped head on it, reminding Vince of a miniature penis, and meant to stuff his cock so he couldn’t cum or piss or leak around it. The length of the sound thinned out, so he could barely feel it, until he got to a marble-sized ball at the top.

“Stop,” his Master commanded before he pressed the ball inside. “Pull it back out, almost all the way, until your piss hole is stretched around the largest part, then fuck it back in.” Vince panted as he felt the way the dick-shaped head teased him from inside his dick. “Again, kitten. Keep going until I tell you to stop. I love seeing any of your holes fucked—your mouth, your cunt, and your piss hole. You love them all, don’t you? You love being filled, being fucked, it doesn’t matter by what or where. One day, that little piss slit is going to be so stretched, I will be able to put my finger down your dick and tickle your prostate.”

That was it—Vince dry orgasmed, never stopping the movement of the plug.

“So very, very good for me, kitten,” his Master said. “Time to seat that plug for the night, kitten. Push that ball all the way in, let it disappear into your dick.”

He keened as he did, so hard and so sensitive, actual words still beyond him.

“That’s it. Slide the ring over the head. So pretty, kitten.”

Vince seated the ring behind the head of his dick, ensuring the sound wouldn’t be lost inside him.

“God, kitten, you are so beautiful.”

Something in his Master’s voice had changed, and Vince could feel himself coming down.

“Get under the covers, kitten. You need to be nice and warm so you don’t crash without me there,” Gareth instructed. Dazed, Vince managed to climb under the thick, luxuriously soft comforter, cuddling into it. “Such a very, very good kitten. I’m going to hang up now. Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow at noon.”

“Good night, Master,” Vince murmured, the last thing he was aware of before he dropped off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still loving any feedback.


	6. A Test Hour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In celebration of breaking 100 bookmarks (most of your bookmarks are private, but they get counted in my counts!), next chapter.

Four. There were four inch-long egg vibrators in his ass. His cock had been stuffed with a severely curved plug, and it was chained tightly to his guiche piercing. Another small vibrator was taped to the head of his cock, which was right behind his balls, stimulating both of them. Vince was trapped in sensation. He'd dry orgasmed for minutes on end, and he was building back up to that.

He had been sitting in Ryan Le Roi's office for an hour. Le Roi had insisted that he sit on a hard chair that had an unusually deep ass imprint that pressed up into everything between his legs. He was fully clothed and was forbidden from opening or crossing his legs. They were pressed tightly together, from ankles, to knees, to thighs.

Upon first entering Le Roi's office, he had been summarily told to drop trou and lay back on the desk, heels on the edge. Then Le Roi had pulled out that wickedly twisted cock plug--ribbed no less, which was a new kind of sensation for him--plugged his cock--and _fuck_ had that plug been large, even now his slit felt like it was straining around it-- and taped the vibrator in place before chaining the cock firmly to his quiche.

"I hear from your master that you can experience dry orgasms," he had said as he turned it on. It was low when he started, probably because he wanted Vince to be able to answer.

"Yes, sir."

"Is it true you can only ejaculate with a cock up your ass? Don't close those legs. You can thrust, but wide open."

Already it was taking effort to focus on Le Roi's questions. "No."

"No?"

"I can... ejaculate if.... _oh_.... if a... suitably sized..." he trailed off with a moan as the vibrator was turned up.

"Suitably sized. Focus on me, Aurum, not on yourself. And quiet. I don't need anyone to hear that beautiful voice."

Fuck, but Gareth had played this game with him before. "Suitably sized dildo... or... anything... long enough.... to reach my...." He paused to focus on breathing and not moaning as Le Roi turned the vibrator up again. "My trigger!" he gasped.

"How deep is it in you?"

"Seven.... about seven inches.... sir."

"Lucky for you I'm a big boy. That won't be a problem. So you can orgasm from pure anal stimulation?"

He turned the vibrator up to full strength, and the first dry orgasm--a short one, fortunately--washed through him. It cleared quickly enough for him to remember the question. "Yes, sir. I can...." His hips were thrusting wildly, and he could feel his asshole opening and closing. It was so empty. "From my... ass... only---" He tipped over into another dry orgasm, this one more drawn out. Still, the vibrator was kept on full-strength, and only a few seconds later, he orgasmed again.

He lost track. When he came back to himself, Le Roi was examining his cock, but though it was horribly uncomfortable, he hadn't ejaculated. He was empty. It didn't work like that anymore.

Le Roi reached his hands up under Vince's shirt and began to play with his nipples. "How about these? Can you come from nipple play? How sensitive are you?"

He gasped. "Not... nearly as sensitive... as my...."

"For me, it's a cunt."

What was the point of fucking a guy if you were going to associate him with a woman anyway? Vince closed his eyes but did not sigh as he said, "My cunt is much more sensitive."

"I see it looks like it's opening up all on its own. Like it's begging to be filled."

"Yes, sir," he replied.

Le Roi grinned, a grin that sent a distinct shudder through Vince. "Then let's fill it, shall we?"

That was when the vibrators had come into play. After a dry orgasm, which had left Vince a nearly incoherent mess on the desk, Le Roi had turned down the vibrators, had him pull his pants back on, and sat him in the chair. All of them were set on low now, enough to stimulate and tease, but not enough to quite overcome the pain of his restricted cock and tip him over into orgasm. Le Roi had been sitting at his desk, mostly ignoring Vince since turning them down, leaving Vince with little to do except focus on the sensations. Every time he'd looked around and tried to distract himself, Le Roi's voice would drag him back, talk about the _fullness_ , the _throbbing_ , the _teasing_ until all of Vince's attention was wrapped back up in it again. He had gotten up a few times to wander over and correct Vince's posture, ensuring he was seated exactly as the man demanded, back straight, shoulders back, head level. No squirming. No fidgeting.

Vince wanted to curl into himself and scream or cry.

He was so lost in his own mind, he completely missed Le Roi speaking to him until he was standing right in front of him. Vince gasped, but kept his eyes submissively lowered.

With dread, Vince watched as Le Roi used his phone to turn up the vibrators. He gasped as they built, pushing him over the pain threshold into the arena where he could orgasm again.

"Keep your posture," Le Roi said, lifting his chin and pushing him back. "Not a word."

Despite himself, Vince whimpered softly. Once he was sitting straight enough to suit Le Roi, the vibration increased again.

It took all his will to lock his muscles up and keep from collapsing in on himself. But tensing also tensed his ass, shifting the vibrators around, and he couldn't help it as his eyes fluttered closed and he moaned.

To his surprise, Le Roi seemed pleased. "Very good," he praised, sounding genuinely approving. He still held Vince's chin tipped up gently on a finger, a reminder of his desired posture, even if he wasn't forcing Vince into it.

The vibration increased again. Vince melted for a moment, moaning deep in his chest before forcing himself to sit straight up again. Trying to keep his posture without tightening up around those maddening vibrators was quickly approaching impossible. His mouth was open as he softly panted, eyes closed as he mentally clawed for control.

"How close are you?" Le Roi asked, the question whispered in his ear. It sent a full body shudder through Vince.

"Close," he replied, equally as soft. "So close."

"And if I turned this up and told you you could not orgasm?"

"I..." Vince couldn't answer. That answer--if there was a right one--was more complex than his oversaturated senses could handle.

Abruptly, the vibration shut off entirely, and Le Roi stepped back. Vince took this as a sign that he could bend over, and did so, folding at the waist and wrapping his arms around his stomach, panting. He knew beyond better than to touch himself by now.

"Spectacular."

Vince risked a glance up through his bangs, but Le Roi's face matched the pleasure in his voice.

"Gareth has found quite the gem in you." He stepped forward again, and lifted Vince's chin in a way that forced him to sit up again, though not quite so rigidly.

"Sir?" he asked.

"How good are you with that mouth?"

"I can deepthroat," he admitted.

"How many inches have you taken down your throat?"

Vince thought for a moment. "I've practiced on a fourteen-inch toy. It's over three inches in diameter."  


Le Roi's brow lifted in surprise. "You can swallow the whole thing?"

"Yes, sir."

"Wonderful. I may have you prove that before you leave. How do you feel about women's clothing?"

"Sir?"

"Being dressed up in it? How do you feel about it?"

"I..." Vince licked his lips and looked away. "I don't particularly enjoy it."

"I hear a 'but' on the of that sentence."

Vince sighed. "But I will wear it if it is what my client desires."

"Aside from things like the sound, how much time have you spent in chastity?"

That didn't sound good. "No more than an appointment, sir," he admitted.

Le Roi hummed thoughtfully. "I'll have to ask Gareth for a quote to keep you in chastity for a full week."

Vince felt his eyes widen as he kept his gaze locked on the floor. Gareth wouldn't let him do something like that, would he? Vince got to go home most nights, got to be normal for Amelie. That was part of the deal, wasn't it?

No, he knew deep inside. It wasn't part of the deal. It was a boon Gareth granted him, an indulgence. Someone paying well enough would be allowed to control him absolutely.

The intercom on the desk buzzed, and Vince straightened his shoulders.

"Mr. Le Roi, your wife is here to see you."

"Perfect timing," he said, then wandered over to the desk, hitting the reply button. "Thanks. Send her in."

Vince barely had time to look up and stare at Le Roi as his office door opened. The woman who walked in was petite but strikingly beautiful. She wore a dress that made Vince think of Audrey Hepburn, and the seemingly frail figure aided the illusion.

"Ryan, my love." Her voice was suffused with warmth, and even though Vince had certainly been a toy for married men before, his stomach turned.

"Regina, light of my life, please, close the door behind you."

She did so, immediately setting down an overlarge purse and setting her sunglasses on her head. She had large, pale brown eyes that seemed almost amber. In her pale and delicate features, they were impossible to ignore.

Le Roi went to her, taking her in his arms and giving her a chaste kiss on her forehead. She smiled and batted her eyes prettily, then gave a mock swat at his chest.

"Really, my love, in public," she chided.

Le Roi chuckled, but leaned back against the edge of his desk, releasing her.

"Aurum here doesn't really count," he assured. He pulled his phone back out of his pocket, and the vibrators went from off to nearly full power. Vince managed to bite off a yelp with a soft choked sound, tensing every bone in his body, trying not completely fall apart. "I met him at Thin Air in the company of Gareth Evermark."

Without saying anything more, Mrs. Le Roi seemed to understand. To Vince's surprise, she looked intrigued, not upset.

"Well, I can certainly see why he caught your eye. 'Aurum,' was it?" she walked over to stand in front of Vince, and he struggled just to follow the conversation. "Oh, really, Ryan, turn it down. I can't talk to the poor boy if he's being overstimulated."

Le Roi chuckled but did as commanded. The instant loss of stimulation was almost a blow itself, and Vince couldn't help his whine.

Mrs. Le Roi lifted his chin, her grip deceptively strong, but when Vince met her eyes, she seemed merely thoughtful. She turned his chin this way and that, examining every pane and angle of his face, then used her empty hand to sweep Vince's hair back from his face. "Good lord, where did Evermark find this one?" The question seemed to be either directed at Le Roi or rhetorical, so Vince kept his mouth shut. "I would usually say he's crass and too on-the-nose with a name like Aurum." She released his hair, then stroked his cheek. "In this case though, I find it hard to argue with it."

"Isn't he.... exquisite?"

Vince had learned to hate that word in the last year.

"Quite. Are you sure he can take you, though?"

"He said he has taken a fourteen-inch toy down his throat. I'm assuming it it'll fit down his throat, it'll fit up his ass, but would you like to see me put that to the test?"

 _What the fuck?_ Was Le Roi seriously offering to fuck him in front of his wife? That was an admitted first for him.

His thoughts must have been plain on his face, because Mrs. Le Roi laughed, a tinkling, happy sound that seemed to dance across Vince's skin.

"Oh, my love, the poor boy looks so confused." She stepped away, going to Le Roi's desk and somehow made the normally clumsy action of hoisting herself to set on the desk look graceful and effortless.

Le Roi walked up to him, careful to keep him well within his wife's sight, and stroked a hand through Vince's hair. "It looks like he's got some appreciation of women as well," Le Roi commented over his shoulder.

She hummed in pleasure. "He seems to be getting better and better." She leaned back on her hands, and her coat slid off her shoulders, displaying a blouse with a startlingly deep v that put her small bust on display. It was clear that she wore no bra, but her breasts were small enough and pert enough not to need it. Vince hadn't had much opportunity to enjoy the female form in the last year, but any man with any leaning toward women would be hard pressed not to be turned on by this one.

While he'd been distracted by the Mrs., Mr. Le Roi had quietly unbuttoned his pants and pulled out a truly daunting member.

"You see, Aurum. I love my wife dearly. We are exceptionally compatible in almost every way.... except in the bedroom."

Vince stared at the appendage that must have been a full foot long and was nearly as thick around as a beer can. He tried to imagine it fitting in Mrs. Le Roi's petite frame and failed.

"Most men think they would like to be this well-endowed," he continued in a conversational tone, stroking that cock. Thankfully, he wasn't a grower. "But in truth, it frightens most men--even self-proclaimed 'size queens,' and I've had women recoil in fear. Fear, I'm afraid, does nothing for my libido. But Evermark assured me that size should be no issue for you. Seeing me in person, is that still so?"

Vince eyed the member, compared it mentally to some of the largest toys he'd taken, and then met Le Roi's eyes. "It shouldn't be a problem, sir." It had been intimidating at first glance, but he’d definitely taken larger.

Mrs. Le Roi made a happy noise on the desk and squirmed. "Even that voice is delightful." Her eyes seemed to glow with approval.

"Regina and I fell in love with one another on our first date. She cannot, and has never been able to, take me physically. We are also both dominant in bed. But we loved one another, so we worked out an arrangement. We may both take a lover to satisfy the sexual needs that we cannot mutually accommodate. Illegitimate children are a hassle, so we take lovers of our own sex to ensure no accidents. But they must also meet with one another's approval. We are a couple, partners. We won't allow anyone to come between us." He stepped closer, guiding his cock toward Vince's mouth. He got the hint and opened for it. It _was_ a tight fit, stretching his jaw uncomfortably. An extended blow job would definitely leave him sore. With a gentleness that surprised Vince, Le Roi coaxed Vince to take him deeper. After a few tries, Vince firmly pulled back, touching Le Roi's wrist gently.

Le Roi looked disappointed, but Vince said, "When taking something this large, it's much easier if I control the pace. I can do it, but I haven't done it often, and mostly just to see if I can. If this is going to be a longer-term arrangement, which is what it sounds like you're proposing, I'm sure I can learn to take you at your pace."

He looked between the couple, and Le Roi looked at his wife. Her brows were raised in obvious surprise. "Beauty is skin deep and easy to find. Articulation and tact are much more difficult. Evermark certainly did find a gem in you," she commented. "Ryan, why don't you have a seat and let the boy give me a show?"

He pulled a chair around, setting it up to give her as best a view as he could. Vince gracefully slid off his chair to his knees. He gathered his hair to sweep it over a shoulder, baring his neck and throat. That way, she'd probably be able to see it bulge as he took her husband. He took a deep breath--he wasn't going to be able to breathe around that monster--and slowly took Le Roi in. He kept his eyes up, focused on the client as he did it. They usually preferred that.

Le Roi stroked his hair, but didn't control him. Vince could see his pupils dilate as he watched Vince, leaving only a sliver of blue around the edges. When Vince fully engulfed him, Le Roi threw his head back and groaned deep in his chest. Vince pulled back equally slowly, using his tongue to massage the underside of the dick as he did. Le Roi's grip in his hair tightened, but it felt like a reflex, not direction. When Vince pulled off, he licked and laved the head for a minute as he caught his breath. Going slow like this, controlling the pace, he had found could be strangely meditative. It reminded him of the slow, controlled movements of yoga and made the experience, if not arousing, at least relaxing. Breath caught, he began to lower himself again, this time moving his tongue as if it could help him pull the dick in. He could feel the tension in Le Roi's thighs and appreciated his self-control. As a reward when he had taken the entire member again, Vince snaked out his tongue and lapped at Le Roi's balls, the motion taking him even deeper.

"Mother of God!" he gasped, unable to help thrusting, but he couldn't go any deeper.

"What did he just do?" Mrs. Le Roi's voice was deep with arousal.

"He--" he choked off as Vince hummed deep in his chest, and came, holding Vince's head in place.

Breathing was going to be a problem soon. Vince raised his hands and wrapped them around Le Roi's wrists. He let go, and Vince pulled off quickly, just managing to contain a cough and gasp. It had been close. Once he was sure he wasn't going to do either of those things, he lapped delicately at the head, cleaning off the last dribbles of come he hadn't swallowed before gently tucking the spent member back in Le Roi's pants. Le Roi didn't move, head still thrown back, chest still heaving. Vince allowed himself to feel a little smug for getting such a man into such a state.

Mrs. Le Roi sat delicately on the seat he'd been on earlier. She ran a hand through his hair and stroked his throat, the actions strangely soothing, so he let himself melt into them.

When Le Roi had gathered himself enough, he looked forward, though he was still slouched in the chair, looking as though he'd had a thoroughly good time.

"I've never seen anyone take you without gagging and battling for it the whole way," she said, voice soft and intimate. "What did he do?"

"He managed to lick my balls with my cock down his throat, then _hummed_ ," he said, equally as soft, almost reverent.

"And can you take him within you as easily as you swallowed him?" she had lowered her head so she all but whispered the question into his ear.

"Easier," he said, voice a little hoarse. He may have made that _look_ easy, but it hadn't been, and his throat was more than irritated enough to make it a little gravelly.

Le Roi groaned. "He may be the death of me in that case," he complained theatrically.

Mrs. Le Roi laughed again. "Strip for us, lovely," she said softly, then to his surprise, added, "Please."

Vince didn't bother to stand up, instead letting his jacket slide down his arms. Mrs. Le Roi helped, running her hands over him as skin was bared until he knelt naked between them, only a band around his thigh holding the batteries of the vibrators he held within him.

"Four?" she sounded surprised as she ran a finger around the band.

"Our Aurum here has a micrograte and a trigger," Le Roi explained.

"Really?" Vince wasn't looking at her, but she sounded surprised, almost shocked. "I've heard of those. Does that mean you really can't come unless you're filled?"

She had continued to run her hands through his hair, over his neck and back as they spoke, so Vince let himself lean into her.

"I can dry orgasm, but I can't ejaculate without trigger stimulation," he explained simply.

"Ooh," she hummed. "Dry orgasms? Really?" That seemed to be more directed to her husband than Vince.

Le Roi hummed in agreement. "He most certainly can." Vince was sure he wasn't imaging the pleasure in Le Roi's voice as he said it.

"I want to see," she said, eager.

Le Roi chuckled. "Up here, Aurum." He patted his lap. Vince rose, moving to straddle Le Roi, when he was stopped. "One moment." Le Roi reached between his legs and released the chain and removed the vibrator taped to the head of his dick. Vince sighed in relief as that vibrator was set aside, and his dick shifted forward. The sound in it still prevented him from getting fully hard, but at least the pressure of having his dick twisted had been released. "Back to me," he suggested, pulling Vince into his lap, spreading his legs over Le Roi's own to put him on display.

Mrs. Le Roi shifted in her chair, anticipation shining in her eyes.

Le Roi gently removed the sound, and Vince groaned softly, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back as his cock fully hardened. He had learned to ignore certain levels of arousal, and the general sensation of being filled was one of them. His body still reacted, but he could think around it, could function in a way that appeared normal. Le Roi stroked his chest and abdomen for a couple minutes before he began to focus on Vince's nipples, then moved one hand down to begin stroking Vince's cock. Then he paused, shifted awkwardly, and pulled out his phone. He stretched it out to Mrs. Le Roi, who took it eagerly. It appeared that explanation was unnecessary as the vibrators within him jumped to life. Vince's eyes fluttered closed, and he tried to control his breathing as Le Roi continued to stroke him. It didn't take long before the increased intensity of the vibrators and Le Roi's experienced hand had him writhing, his thoughts consumed with need. But he knew it wasn't enough. He reached up, clasping his hands behind Le Roi's head to keep from touching himself.

"I want you to come from my hand, from those toys," Le Roi demanded, low in his ear.

"I can't," Vince gasped, trying to twist toward or away, he wasn't sure.

"You can't ejaculate. But you can orgasm. Come for me."

The vibrators went wild, Le Roi focused right under the head of his cock, and Vince thrashed in his grasp. A helpless keening built in Vince's chest, and Le Roi turned his head abruptly, catching his lips, swallowing the sound before it could fully escape as he orgasmed, a vibrator lodged right against his prostate, dragging it out, blotting everything but the pain/pleasure of the it out of his mind.

When he came back to himself, he was boneless in Le Roi's arms, the vibrators had been turned off and removed, but he was still hard. That had become annoyingly normal, and the desire for physical release, while present, was banked. Le Roi was stroking him comfortingly, almost as if he were precious.

He opened his eyes into mere slits to see Mrs. Le Roi looking incredibly pleased. "Welcome back, Aurum," she said with genuine warmth.

"Sorry," he murmured.

"Don't apologize. You were spectacular," she assured. Her eyes were still dilated more than the light in the room would account for and there was a pretty flush to her cheeks. "I'm afraid it's better in this case if we don't have to clean your come from the office, but, wow." She fanned herself with her hand. "Is it always that intense for you?"

If he hadn't still been sprawled with his legs spread to put him on full display, he may have just shrugged. Instead he said, "It can be. Mr. Evermark says that he's never seen a male so receptive to... internal stimulation."

"So you can come from penetration alone?"

"Of course."

She sat back, her eyes moving to her husband's for a moment before returning to Vince's. "Can you stand to dress?" she asked.

Though Vince would rather have curled up and taken a nap, he was feeling in control enough to nod. He moved to his feet, a little gingerly, making sure his legs would hold him. Once certain, he began to dress, not with any particular intention of being seductive, but it had become habit to do mundane tasks in pleasing ways, and he could feel both their eyes on him as he dressed.

Finally, he pulled on his suit jacket and straightened his tie, running both hands through his hair quickly to work out any tangles from his thrashing, before settling it. He'd softened enough that he wasn't obviously hard.

Mrs. Le Roi let out a low whistle of appreciation. "I didn't know watching a man get dressed could be such a turn-on," she commented.

"I don't suppose we could see you this evening," Le Roi said.

"Unfortunately, I am unavailable this evening. Please let Mr. Evermark know when you would like to see me next," Vince replied, careful to keep his tone respectful.

"Aurum, I know it's not kosher to ask, but how did you end up working for Evermark?" Mrs. Le Roi asked, sounding curious rather than critical.

Thoughts of his sick father, his desperate mother, and Amelie tried to rush forward, but he pushed them down. "I'm afraid that if you would like to inquire further, you will have to discuss my situation with Mr. Evermark," he explained.

She hmmed thoughtfully. "Tactful again, I see. Go on, Aurum. I'm sure we'll be seeing you soon."

Vince offered them an incline of the head in respect then silently took his leave. Something about those two was very strange, very different, as if this whole thing had been about more than just sex. Part of him had wanted to luxuriate in them, and that made him more than a little uneasy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you all love Gareth, but Vince is for sale. He gets to be with lots of other people. Let me know what you think about his first time "on screen" with other paying clients. Please keep the kudos/comments coming. They are totally driving the muse right now.


	7. Another Preview

Vince almost always went back to Gareth’s apartment after a client, if for no other reason than the idea of going home to Amelie stinking of sex twisted something low and awful inside. Funny how sex with Gareth didn’t seem to count.

He barely closed the door behind him when Gareth’s voice says, “Strip, kitten.”

Unthinking, Vince automatically began to get out of the suit. He had mostly softened on the way back from Mr. Le Roi’s office, but just being told to strip made his cock stir in interest. He wondered if it was the anticipation of the sex or just the command that did it.

He didn’t see Gareth anywhere, but his voice had been strong and close.

“In the dining room, kitten. Come see us.”

 _Us?_ Vince wondered. Nervous butterflies clamored in his belly as he moved into the dining room. Well, it was _meant_ to be a dining room. It was used for a lot of other things, most of them sexual. When Vince turned the corner, two large, wingback chairs were set at the end, a side table sat between them. Gareth sat in one, not a surprise. Someone he didn’t know sat in the other.

Vince lowered his eyes, knowing better than to try to take him in overtly, going to the mat on the floor a respectful distance from them both, and dropped to his knees, arraying himself. If Gareth had called him in here naked, he wanted to show him off.

“Oh, Gareth,” the other man said, sucking in a breath. His voice was a deep, rumbling bass, and a little shiver of pleasure ran through Vince at it. He could imagine that voice murmuring to him, feeling his in his back and across his skin. “May I?”

“Of course. You’re here for a preview after all.”

The other man got up. He was in an expensive dark suit, but that wasn’t a surprise in and of itself. He wasn’t rented to people without serious money. Vince could hear him walking around him. The man hmmed, sounding pleased. “Stand for me, pretty,” he said, and Vince rose gracefully to his feet, still keeping his eyes down. He realized the man was _tall._ He hadn’t looked that big in the wingback, but Vince hadn’t gotten a good look. Now though, he could tell that the man was a full head taller than Vince, at least. Vince was just shy of 6’1”, so the guy was big. He continued circling Vince, reaching out from time to time to touch him, as if he were a fine piece of furniture he just had to run his hands over. His hands were huge and warm, and Vince couldn’t help but lean into the touches.

The man chuckled, low and sexy. “No wonder you call him kitten,” he said to Gareth.

He heard Gareth hum in agreement. “He loves being touched.”

That huge hand slipped around to loosely grip Vince’s throat, tipping his chin back, then pulling him back to lean against the man’s chest. He was solid muscle, and he made Vince feel small in his grasp, but he sighed, feeling strangely safe.

He could feel the man’s generous member begin to harden at the small of his back.

“Christ, Gareth, is he always like this?”

“Made for the life, isn’t he?” He could hear the grin in Gareth’s voice even though he couldn’t see him.

The hand released his throat, caressing his collar until it reached his shoulder. Gentle pressure told Vince to drop back to his knees. The man went back over to the wingback and sat back down. Vince wasn’t usually quite _this_ responsive, but something about the tenderness the Le Rois had shown him left him aching for more of the same. The gentleness with which the new man had handled him hit that button hard.

“When can I have him?” the man asked, and somehow his voice had gone deeper.

“You’re lucky. His standing Friday evening had to cancel this week.”

That was news to Vince, but it didn’t upset him. His standing Friday was a creepy sixty-year-old man who kept Vince in chastity all evening, and got off on dressing him up in frilly, gothic short skirts, garters, and high heels. He liked to mess with Vince as Vince made him dinner as if he were some demure maid. Even if he weren’t in chastity, it really did nothing for him. And the old man wasn’t even well-endowed enough to get to his trigger if he weren’t in chastity. It was a mixed blessing that he wasn’t usually able to get it up and would usually fuck Vince with toys. He was probably Vince’s smarmiest client, and he was always happy when the man had to cancel. He didn’t want to think about how much the old man probably had to pay Gareth to have that standing Friday appointment, but whenever it opened, Gareth told him there was usually a bidding war for him.

“Perfect,” the new man purred. “How does he look in a dress?” he asked.

 _Damn_ , Vince mentally complained. And this had seemed so promising.

“What kind of dress?” Gareth asked. “Do you want him to pass or just for kink?”

Vince risked flicking a gaze up and was caught by dark, heated eyes. “Pass,” he said, a growling undertone.

 _Pass?_ Vince wondered. That was relatively novel. That implied this guy wanted to take him out as a woman. He thought about it and figured Gareth was right. He was tall, and his shoulders had filled out well, but he was thin enough that with the right clothing and makeup, yeah, he could pull it off. Gareth had taken him out once just to see how well he did pass. The exercise he did was meant to keep him lean and lithe, keeping him more androgynous.

“Come here, kitten,” Gareth said, and he stood and went to him. Gareth reached out, and Vince gave a little gasp as his ring loosened and was removed. “Kitten, go put on your dress,” Gareth told him. “The red one.”

Vince bowed his head. “Yes, Master.” He understood the implication of the ring being removed. There was only one reason he could think of that Gareth would have proactively removed it. He went to the bedroom. He knew the dress that Gareth meant. It was a slinky piece with tiny straps that showed off his back. The skirt was short enough that when he sat in it, it barely covered his ass. It was short enough that he couldn’t be bare under it, so first things first.

He went to the closet and opened the drawer with all of the lingerie. He decided on the silky red ones that would match the dress, then grabbed the hanger with the dress. The reason for his ring being removed was so he would be able to tuck. He knew that he had a few minutes, but he shouldn’t linger. He sat on the bed and opened his legs. His standing Friday liked him tucked, so he was used to it, though he didn’t enjoy it. He figured a more traditional tuck was more appropriate under the circumstance, and he pulled his dick down between his legs, then pulled the underwear on. When he stood up to get the dress, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. It always messed with his head, seeing his reflection so smooth.

He turned away to pull the dress on. The fabric looked like metallic red paint, and it was cool and silky to the touch. It draped and ruched in such a way that it gave the illusion of hips, and it clung to his ass in the back. The way the top hung and draped also made his pecs look like small breasts. The tiny straps made an X against his back. He settled the dress and checked his hair in the mirror. He sighed and opened the drawer on the jewelry box, pulling out a couple of large bobby pins to pull his hair back from his face on one side of his head. Even that little touch made him look more prettier, more feminine. He went back to the hanger to grab the red silk ribbon on it, and tied it around his neck, making a bow out of it and settling the bow at the side of his neck. It helped camouflage his adam’s apple. He probably didn’t have time to do any makeup, but if he were totally honest, he could probably pass just like this.

He turned to go back out, then realized he’d forgotten one quick touch. He dashed back into the closet to grab a pair of pair of black stilettos, and pulled them on quickly. He took another moment to make sure he was put together, and went back out.

The heels rang against the hardwood floors, the click of them strangely satisfying. The heels added an automatic sway to his hips, and although he didn’t especially enjoy dressing up like a woman, the look on a man’s face when they saw Vince like this, he had to admit, that gave him a little thrill. He stopped at the edge of the mat because the heels wouldn’t be good for it, but also because walking on that soft of a surface in spikey heels would be a good way to twist an ankle.

The new man was out of his seat, and his eyes roamed over Vince with a physical weight. “Wow,” he said, coming to a stop right in front of Vince.

Vince glanced up at him through his eyelashes, something he couldn’t usually do while in heels unless he was on his knees. “Do I please you, sir?” he asked, pitching his voice a little higher than his normal speaking voice, giving him a soft, raspy alto.

The man’s hand settled on his hip and pulled him in, and Vince could feel the bulge in his pants just above his own crotch. The heels made their heights closer, but the man was still taller. “You please me very much, Aurum.” He still had to lean down to murmur into Vince’s ear.

He bent a little to slide a hand up between Vince’s thighs and cupped between his legs. “Oh, pretty thing,” he breathed. “When can I have you?”

“Friday evening, Jamal,” Gareth reminded him.

“And the rules?” he asked, eyes still glued to Vince.

“No harm. No marks that won’t fade with in a day. No breaking the skin. No scat. He can dry orgasm, so you can make him cum as much or as little as you want. He is very, very flexible, so if you’re pushing him beyond normal bounds, he’ll let you know.”

“You’re sure he can take me?” he asked.

Gareth chuckled, and even Vince felt his mouth twitch, amused. “I think a demonstration may be in order, kitten,” he instructed. “Sit down, Jamal. Let him take care of that.”

Vince put a hand on Jamal’s stomach to guide him back to the chair, and even through his shirt, the man was _ripped_. What the fuck was he doing paying for someone like Vince? Surely this man could get anyone he wanted, man or woman. Vince stood over him for just a couple heartbeats, taking him in. He was gorgeous with strong, traditionally masculine features, strong jaw with thick lips made to kiss, hair in thin, elegant loks, pulled back from his face. A strong brow and deep eyes you could drown in.

Vince sank to his knees, keeping his eyes locked on Jamal’s as he did so, and he loved it when he could watch pupils expand, could see nostrils flare, watch a man’s pulse jump in his throat. His cock twitched between his legs, knowing he could affect this man so much, but this wasn’t about him. He ran his hands down Jamal’s chest as he finished settled to his knees, and _wow_. Okay. Vince was actually looking forward to being with this man. He’d been fortunate in that most of his clients were decent looking, if not good-looking, but a man this beautiful was uncommon.

He bent his head again so he could look up through his eyelashes, and asked, “May I, sir?” as his hands settled on Jamal’s belt.

“Yes,” he hissed, his voice dropping even lower. A little shiver went through Vince, and he undid Jamal’s belt, then unbuttoned the placket in his pants. Between the man’s sheer build and his concern about Vince being able to take him, he wasn’t surprised when his dick sprang out of his pants. He was definitely a big boy, but not the monster that Le Roi was. “What do you think, pretty? Can you take me?”

Vince met his eyes squarely this time. Rather than responding verbally, he gave the dick a good stroke, then leaned up a little more to get the right angle to take the whole length in. He did it slowly, eyes locked on Jamal’s, feeling the tension in his thighs as he fought not to shove in, not stopping until he had swallowed him to the root. Vince swallowed around the length in his throat, milking him, making Jamal groan, his dick pulsing on Vince’s tongue. Vince pulled off to catch his breath, swallow the extra saliva, then dived back down, doing the trick where he took a man so deep he could lick their balls, milking the length with his throat the whole time.

Jamal’s hand tangled in his hair, holding him close as he thrust hard and came down Vince’s throat without anything more. He held Vince there, lost in his own orgasm, long enough that Vince had to reach up to make him release Vince’s hair. He did like he’d been burned, and let Vince pull off. He lapped the sensitive head, cleaning him off, then tucked him delicately back in, buttoning the placket back up and rebuckling his belt before sitting back, arraying himself as best he could while in the dress.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Gareth,” Jamal said, breathing and laughing a little. “You’re going to make me wait till Friday to have him?”

Vince could hear the smirk in Gareth’s voice. “He’s booked until then, I’m afraid. Though, if you wanted to make a sex tape, I might be able to clear some extra time. I’ll bet the two of you will be fucking beautiful together.”

Jamal groaned. “Tempting, man. Very tempting, but my public relations people would lose their God damn minds if I made a sex tape with a man—no matter how pretty. You know how homophobic the NFL still is.”

“But you want to take him out on a date,” Gareth said pointedly.

“There are plenty of discreet places I can take him,” Jamal argued. “Be a damn shame not to dress him up and take him out. No one would think he’s anything other than a fucking model.”

“As long as he doesn’t end up in the rags, that’s fine,” Gareth said with a sigh.

“I’ll make sure,” Jamal agreed. “I’ll send a dress over for Friday. I’m sure you can give me the sizing?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“Excellent,” Jamal said, and he reached out to cup Vince’s face. “I look forward to taking you out, wining you, dining you, and taking you home to fuck you until you can’t walk straight, pretty boy.”

“It will be my pleasure, sir.”

“Jamal.”

“Jamal,” Vince repeated.

* * *

“You liked him,” Gareth said, almost accusing after Jamal left.

It was true, but Vince didn’t see why he was upset. He shrugged. “It’s easier if they’re nice,” he said simply.

“You usually hate dressing like a woman. You didn’t seem to mind it for Jamal.”

Again, Vince was at a loss. It was almost as if Gareth were jealous, but that couldn’t be right. Could it? He clearly invited Jamal over for a preview, to see if Vince would be to his taste. Why would he be upset that it had gone well?

Gareth grabbed his wrist and spun him around, pushing him into the counter. In the three-inch heels, Vince was actually slightly taller than Gareth. It clearly wasn’t lost on Gareth—it was probably the single reason Gareth didn’t dress him up like a woman more often.

“Get those heels off,” he hissed, and Vince rushed to comply, dropping him to his normal height. Gareth reached up under the dress to press at Vince’s trapped length. “I’m surprised this isn’t hard,” he hissed, still sounding angry, pushing hard enough to hurt. Vince whimpered softly. “The way you went at him… how hungry you were for that big fucking dick.” He released Vince and stepped away. “Stay there.” He disappeared down the hall to the bedroom, and Vince could hear drawers opening and closing. He wondered what to expect this time.

Gareth came back, a couple of slim boxes, looking like jewelry boxes, in his hand. That was probably not a good sign.

“Turn around and bend over, kitten,” he instructed.

Vince didn’t sigh as he did as instructed, but it was a close thing. Gareth rucked his skirt up around his waist. “Hold that, kitten,” he commanded.

He did. His cheeks burned, because he always felt more exposed half dressed than being naked. Gareth must have noticed because he chuckled. “It’s cute that you can still get embarrassed.” He opened the first box. “Eyes forward, kitten.”

He wasn’t all that surprised when Gareth pulled his underwear down, and pulled his cock back between his legs. He jumped when a cold chain slipped over the head, then tightened behind his glans. Gareth pulled on it to make sure it was secure, and Vince whimpered. He wanted to get hard, but he knew he couldn’t with his dick like this. The other box opened, and Gareth kicked his heels apart to give him more to room to work. He slid another chain up through his guiche a couple times before tightening it and locking it in place somehow. “How’s that, kitten? Secure?” he batted at Vince’s trapped cock a couple times before rubbing his thumb over the slit. He wanted to get hard, was getting turned on, but couldn’t. “How is it, kitten?”

“It’s secure, Master,” he forced himself to say.

“Good kitten.” He pulled out something else, and another cool chain was wrapped around his waist and clipped into place. A long tail dropped down between his asscheeks, and he had a feeling he knew where this was going. Sure enough, Gareth attached it to the chain around his glans before looping it back up to the chain around his waist and attaching it there. It pulled and pinched, but while it was definitely uncomfortable, it didn’t _hurt_ , exactly. At least, it didn’t hurt until Gareth pulled on the chain.

Just to add insult to injury, Gareth stroked his trapped cock, teasing him even though there was no fucking way he could get hard like this.

“I should send you home to your sister like this, in a slutty dress. Should have you tell her you want to be a woman,” he said into Vince’s ear, low and turned on. “Wish you had a cunt just so I had another hole to fuck you in.”

His words weren’t a turn-on for Vince though. They were like being doused in ice water. He pushed himself more upright, but Gareth slapped his ass— _hard_. “Ow!” he complained. He wasn’t turned on at all now, merely uncomfortable, and he didn’t like being hit at the best of times.

Gareth grabbed his arm and yanked him back around. Vince dropped the dress in his surprise. Gareth’s eyes raked over him, dress and hair disheveled, panties down around his knees.

“You really do look like a woman like this, kitten,” he said, bending down and pushing one front aside to latch on to once of Vince’s nipples while his hand reached into the other side of the dress to cup and knead his other pec and nipple as if they were a woman’s. He bit the nipple in his mouth, and Vince hissed. “Should really work on making these more sensitive.”

Vince disagreed but knew better than to argue.

He was surprised when Gareth released him and pulled his panties back up. “You’re going to dance for me, kitten,” Gareth said, which explained that. He started walking toward the living room and the dance pole came out of the floor as a throbbing beat came up over the stereo. “Put those heels back on. You’re going to dance for me, strip out of that dress and underwear for me, show me what a pretty girl you are. Then you’re going to show me what a naughty girl you are by begging me to fuck your ass. You’re going to stay locked up like that all night.”

“Master!” Vince protested in the middle of putting his shoes back on.

“You will,” Gareth said, sitting in his chair. “And you won’t complain about it unless you want me to send you to your sister in that dress with a vibrator up your ass.” Vince knew better than to say another word in protest. He had no doubt Gareth would do exactly as he said. “Now, get over here and give me a show, pretty girl.”

Vince did as ordered. He was even on time getting home for a change. If he had trouble appreciating the dresses Gareth had bought Amelie, he made sure Amelie couldn’t tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jamal is in no way based on any real NFL player. I literally picked it out of a random list. 
> 
> Several people wondered if Gareth gets jealous? Well, now you have your answer.
> 
> General question since people seem to really like Vince and Gareth together--if I did an alternate world version where Vince and Gareth meet later and Gareth is the one to help Vince understand his submissive nature, would anyone be interested? Would still be lots of sex, probably still some dub-con (and probably at least reference to outright non-con). These two wouldn't have a normal, sane, healthy relationship even under the best of circumstances, so it'd still be kinky as hell, and probably still involve some other characters, some you'd recognize, some new. Anyway, would anyone want to read it if I did that? I'd still continue working on Prepared regardless, but you lovely commentors triggered the idea, so I thought I'd throw it out there. Let me know!


	8. Going Under

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the new crossdressing and forced fem tags must have brought a lot of new readers my way because I got over 1500 new hits since I posted the last chapter, which is kind of mindblowing to me. So, happy Friday all. New chapter. Hope you enjoy this one.

The Thursday before his “date” with Jamal, the dress arrived. It was emerald green, with long sleeves, and a neckline that went down to his waist. The dress was long enough that heels would be required not to trip over it, but it had slits up high on either thigh that would show off a _lot_ of leg. The dress came with a belt of the same material, but Jamal had included a thicker, corset-style belt that would pinch his waist and provide a better hourglass illusion. The wide, deep neckline would make the shape of his pecs look like a bit of cleavage. To match the edginess of the corset-style belt, also included was an ornate black crochet lace collar with a thumb-sized emerald hanging from it. It would be perfect to camouflage his adam’s apple. He had also included drop emerald earrings to go with the choker.

When Gareth finished laying out the generous gifts, he turned heated eyes on Vince. “You’re going to be so beautiful, kitten,” he said, and his voice was low and rough. “I want to fuck you in it now, but we don’t really have time to get in dry cleaned for tomorrow,” he grumbled. “Who do you have tonight, kitten?” he asked.

“Mr. Nawamoto,” Vince answered promptly. He was a regular of Vince’s and a total bondage freak.

“Excellent,” Gareth said, going to the chair in the corner of the room. “Bondage always puts you under deep, doesn’t it, kitten?” he asked. He tapped his thigh, a simple sign to have Vince kneel between his thighs. He went, resting his head against the thigh, and let Gareth card through his hair. He was already naked—Gareth had him strip the moment he came in that afternoon. “I asked you a question, kitten.”

Vince frowned. “I don’t like it,” he admitted. “It makes my head feel… fuzzy, like I can’t think.”

Gareth gripped his hair, firm but not enough to hurt, and pulled his head back until his throat was stretched. “It’s called subspace, kitten—the place in your head where you go when you let someone else have complete control of you.”

He felt like he’d heard the term before, but he hadn’t ever applied it to himself. How much the actual rules and conventions of a real BDSM relationship had been explained to him could be hit or miss since he wasn’t _in_ a real relationship—he was purchased. He didn’t get to decide or negotiate—those negotiations were carried out by Gareth.

Gareth stroked his throat, and Vince could feel himself relaxing. “Yes, kitten, like this. You love to be controlled, even if you don’t like that you love it.” Vince tensed up a little, annoyed, and Gareth chuckled. “Oh, you do, kitten. You definitely do. Shall I prove it to you?” He released Vince’s hair, ran his hand through it once more before taking his hands off entirely. “Go get me my book, kitten.” Vince turned to get up and do that, when he felt a tug on his hair. “Crawl, kitten. Make it pretty.”

Vince did his best to do that, even though he always felt stupid crawling. He could feel the heat of Gareth’s eyes on him, so he must have been doing okay. He brought the book back, handed it to Gareth, then arrayed himself.

“Such a good kitten,” Gareth praised, and Vince felt his dick twitch. “We’re going to put you under deep for a while, kitten,” he said. He set the book on a side table. “All fours in front of me, making a table for me.”

Curious, Vince did so. Gareth leaned forward and ran his hand down Vince’s back, all the way between his crack and down his taint, down to the tip of his dick, which made it twitch. His hands started running over Vince rhythmically. “Okay, kitten. I want you to listen to me. All you hear is my voice,” he began, low and heated, but calm, too. “ _Submit_.” His cock hardened even more at the word, even as he relaxed. “Such a very, very good kitten. Keep your spine straight for me. All the way up through your neck,” he said, running his hand up from Vince’s ass until he met the back of Vince’s skull. “I want you to be a footstool for me, kitten. It’s going to hurt, but when it hurts, I want you to think of me. _Submit_. Keep yourself still and open that asshole, kitten. Open it for me, make it beg for me. _Submit_ and keep still, kitten. The only part of you I want to see moving is your asshole.”

The position wasn’t uncomfortable, just awkward, and the awkwardness was fading with every word his Master spoke. He was getting harder as Gareth kept speaking, but it was a distraction. The important thing was opening his ass for his Master. He closed his eyes and concentrated on opening his ass. It was hard. That muscle had taken a lot of practice to control, but he could feel it opening up.

“ _Yes_ , kitten. That’s exactly what your Master wants. And you will do what your Master wants because that’s what you want, kitten. Open wider, kitten.” He could feel his Master’s fingers teasing his hole as he opened it up, but he was as wide as he thought he could make it. Two of Master’s fingers dipped in with no resistance. “Wider, kitten.”

Vince tried, but nothing moved, and it was getting difficult to even keep holding things open.

“ _Submit_ , kitten. Your Master wouldn’t ask something of you he didn’t think you could do. Your body is mine to command, and your Master commands it open.”

Another switch was thrown in Vince’s head, pushing him deeper into that fuzzy mental space where his Master’s voice became everything. He took a deep breath and forced his body to open further. He felt three fingers slide in comfortably.

“Much better, kitten. Such a good pet.” Master used his fingers to stroke Vince’s prostate. “Stay still, kitten. I don’t want you to move, just keep open like this while I pet your spot.” He did so, rubbing right onto Vince’s prostate, causing his cock to fully plump.

His other hand ran up under Vince’s belly, taking a nipple between his fingers. “Feel this, kitten?” he asked, petting Vince’s gland again while he twisted and pulled on a nipple. “When your tits are played with, it’ll be like your spot is being stroked.” He did it again, flicking Vince’s prostate as he flicked a nipple. “Submit, kitten. Your body is mine, and I want your nipples to feel as good as your prostate does,” he said. He moved to the other nipple, but kept his hand in Vince’s ass. “No closing up on me, kitten. You are my toy. You do as I say.” He twisted a nipple as he dug a knuckle into Vince’s prostate, and Vince gasped, but he didn’t move.

“Perfect, kitten. Keep like this. You are mine. You are my toy. You only want what your Master wants. Nothing matters but what your Master wants. You only feel my hands on you. You only hear my voice. Close your eyes, kitten.”

Once Vince closed his eyes, he fell deeper. He had to keep his body open for his Master. His nipples were so hard, so was his cock. Every brush to them was like his prostate was being touched. His Master’s voice continued, low and steady, repeating what he wanted over and over until his world became only his Master’s voice and his hands.

“You love having your tits played with, don’t you, kitten? Your Master likes having another place to make you crazy with.” Both of his nipples were being played with, his pecs being massaged as thought they were breasts, but he had to fight not to shudder. His untouched dick was so hard, it was bouncing against his stomach, but it was a distant need.

“I’m going to keep playing with your tits, kitten. I’m going to make you crazy. I want you to stay still, stay open, the entire time,” he said. “Submit to your Master, kitten.”

Vince needed that, needed to make his Master happy, needed to make him proud. Somewhere, some part of him was feeling the strain of kneeling like this for so long, the strain of keeping himself so open, but it was a tiny awareness, easily ignored in light of his Master’s needs and demands.

Something pinched first one nipple, then then other, and Vince couldn’t keep silent. He imagined if someone could pinch his prostate, it would feel like this, and without any other stimulation, he orgasmed.

“You can cum, kitten, but you have to stay open. Keep open for me.”

He couldn’t tell if the pinched/petted prostate feeling was in his head or if his Master was doing something. He was lost in a torrent of pleasure, which only increased and triggered another orgasm when something heavy pulled on his nipples, and continued doing so.

“Such a good, kitten,” Master praised, and Kitten managed not to move, not to even shudder. “Keep still, kitten. Keep feeling those weights—it’s like your spot is being pulled and molded. It feels amazing, doesn’t it, kitten? Keep so still for me, don’t let that back bend. I need you to be my footstool now. I need you to be perfectly still, kitten, for as long as I say. I don’t want you to think about anything other than how your nipples feel, how open your ass is, how much your Master loves seeing you like this, seeing you perfectly still and so turned on. The longer you can do this, the happier you will make your Master, the better you will feel.”

Kitten lost time—there was nothing but the weight of his Master’s legs on his back, the swaying of the weights on his nipples that teased him like a vibrator on his prostate, how open and vulnerable he felt, and how proud that made his Master. Every time the pain in his body tried to intrude, he sank deeper into that place, reinforcing what his Master wanted, what pleased his Master, that only his Master’s will mattered.

It was a shock when Master’s legs disappeared from his back. Had Kitten failed? Had Kitten disappointed Master?

“Shhh,” Master’s voice calmed him. “You’re doing very, very well, kitten. Keep it up. You’re making me so proud.” Master’s hand stroked down between Kitten’s cheeks, four fingers pressing into his hole with almost no resistance. “Oh, kitten,” Master breathed, and Kitten could hear the arousal in it. It stirred even further arousal in Kitten, but Kitten’s arousal didn’t matter. Only Master’s did. “Keep this up. Keep open for me. Keep still for me.” Master swatted at the weights on his nipples, and Kitten orgasmed at the feeling again, somehow managing to keep his ass open.

“So, so proud, kitten,” Master purred, voice gravely with desire. “Stay just like that, kitten.”

Kitten did, mind consumed with feeling and Master’s voice. When Master came back and the clamps were removed, Kitten orgasmed again, gasping, tightening muscles to keep him perfectly still. Master’s hand petted down his back. “So perfect, kitten. I need you to crawl now, follow your Master.”

He did, seeking his warmth, ignoring the way muscles creaked and complained, not bothering to open his eyes until his forehead gently bumped into Master’s legs. Master pet his hair and said, “Array, kitten.”

Getting into arrayed position almost undid him. Knees didn’t want to bend that way, arms trembled as they were placed behind, back cracked like a roll of bubble wrap as he sat up. Master took Kitten’s face into his hands. “Time to come back, kitten. Open your eyes.”

The words, and something different about Master’s tone and the way his hands stroked brought Vince out of the fuzzy, almost empty headspace he’d been in. He blinked, and saw Gareth, and half of his body seemed to spasm.

“Jesus _fuck_ ,” he cursed, feeling cramps settling into arms and legs both. How fucking long had Gareth kept him like that? He felt wrung out and exhausted, and was in a fairly substantial amount of pain. How was he supposed to see Mr. Nawamoto that evening? Gareth wasn’t wrong—the bondage usually put Vince in that weird headspace, and the idea of going back there twice in one day made him edgy. There was no denying that place felt amazing, but when Vince’s head was on right, it was terrifying. He didn’t know what he’d do while in it, didn’t like how mindless he became.

He realized they were next to the giant tub only after Gareth turned the water off.

“I know you’re sore and stiff, kitten, but let’s get in,” Gareth said, taking his hands, and _fuck_ , even that ached. Gareth swung his legs over the edge of the tub and in, while Vince did his best not to just faceplant into the water. Gareth settled in, and guided Vince down in front of him, between his legs. He massaged Vince’s arms, and Vince moaned in pain rather than pleasure.

“Other than sore, how do you feel, kitten?” Gareth asked, pulling Vince’s back tight to his chest.

He felt sore and open and vulnerable, and he didn’t like any of it. If he was totally honest, he was pretty pissed off.

“Tired,” was what he settled on.

“You did so well, kitten,” Gareth told him, stroking his sides and stomach. That would normally feel nice, but he was in a little too much pain and too upset from being put under so deeply to enjoy it. He had been down—not that deep—and come back feeling safe and treasured and satisfied. Not this time. This time felt like a violation, but he couldn’t tell Gareth that.

The almost too-hot bath was soothing, at least, though if he were this sore now, the next day would be twice as bad.

“It’ll hurt, but after your session with Mr. Nawamoto tonight, you should take a good hour to stretch,” Gareth advised.

Vince knew that. He wished that Gareth had allowed him to stretch _first_ though. It would hurt no matter what, but it would have mitigated a lot of his next day soreness. “Yes, Master,” he said instead.

Gareth brushed a hand over Vince’s chest, catching a nipple, and Vince jumped like someone had jabbed his prostate. Gareth chuckled, deep and satisfied. “I wondered how much that would hold,” he said, this time taking a nipple between his fingers and twisting it purposely. Vince writhed, gasping and confused. His nipples were sort of sensitive, yes, but not like this.

Gareth’s other hand rose and started playing with the other one, playing until Vince was keening and on the verge of begging.

“Can you come from this, kitten?” Gareth asked, his breath hot in Vince’s ear.

“I… don’t…”

Gareth pinched both hard, and Vince was coming yet again, yelling with it. He could feel Gareth’s cock twitching against his back and realized distantly that Gareth had come just from watching Vince orgasm from nipple play. That was a first.

He was still achingly hard, but the lethargy and sleepiness of so many orgasms in a relatively short time banked the need. Gareth chuckled again and pulled him tight to his chest. Vince sank into him because he didn’t have the energy to do otherwise. He felt like he could fall to sleep right where he was.

One of Gareth’s hands drifted down between Vince’s legs. Weary, he spread them on autopilot, letting Gareth do what he would with him. He didn’t expect the ring on Gareth’s thumb to loosen his cock ring and for Gareth to murmur in his ear, “Come.” It’s an unquestionable command, and even though Vince had been winding down, he ejaculated on the spot, long and hard, and it stole the last of his energy.

As he drifted off in Gareth’s arms, he had the vague thought that it was probably not great that Gareth could make him come on demand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am seriously living on comments and kudos right now, so if you feel I warrant it, I'd love it if you continue your encouragement. Working on the spin-off. I want to get more chapters under my belt before I start putting it up, but it will be linked to this one.


	9. A Date and Foreplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To celebrate 7500 hits. You're all amazing.

Vince was still sore the next day. His arms, back, abdomen, even his neck were all stiff and achy. Being put down with Mr. Nawamoto the night before hadn’t helped, and even though he’d taken Gareth’s advice and forced himself to do an hour of yoga before crashing for the night, the damage had mostly been done.

He was alone in the apartment when he got up close to noon, so he checked in with Amelie before he started his day properly. He took three ibuprofen, then made himself do another hour of yoga, even though his arms and back and abs screamed at him the whole time. When he was done, both the medicine had kicked in and the stretch, despite his body’s complaints, had helped. He had the lingering weakness of overused muscles, but at least every movement didn’t ache anymore.

That done, he got dressed and went home to make dinner for Amelie—just another casserole, but she’d be able to warm it up on her own, then made himself lunch while it was baking. He was ravenous by the time he sat down to eat, and inhaled the two sandwiches he had made. He forced himself to finish his second bottle of water as well, knowing it would be important to keep hydrated while he healed.

He puttered around the apartment, doing some basic chores as the casserole finished. He left it on the stove to cool before putting it in the fridge, and did something he rarely did—sat down on the couch and turned on the TV.

He flipped through the channels lazily until he landed on some game show looking thing. He was out before the first commercial.

* * *

“Vince!” Amelie’s voice jolted him out of sleep, and he groaned, realizing the ibuprofen had worn off. He blinked at her, a little dazed, realizing she was sitting on the coffee table.

“Don’t sit on the table, Mel,” he told her, reaching out to tap her knee as he tried to sit up.

She rolled her eyes and obligingly got up, only to flop herself on the couch next to his hip, crowding him.

“I would call you a lazy lay-about, but do I want to know how late you were up last night?” she asked, her gold eyes—the mirror of his own—focused intensely on him.

“You really don’t,” he agreed, rubbing the sleep from his own eyes. “What time is it?”

“4:30.”

He stretched his neck, feeling it crack, and groaned again, rubbing the back of it. “I gotta get moving.” He rolled his shoulders and those cracked too.

“So you have work tonight too?” Amelie asked in a small voice.

There was a tiny petty part of him that wanted to tell her exactly what his work was and what he was protecting her from, what he was sacrificing. Whenever she complained about him working evenings, about his strange hours, there was an ugly little part of him that wanted to tell her exactly what he was doing.

He never would. He would be horrified if she ever found out what he did for her. But on days where he was particularly run down and wrung out, there was that tiny, despicable voice in his head wanted to tell her exactly why he was always out so late, tell her exactly what he was doing.

Instead, he just said, “You know I work most evenings.”

“It’d be nice to have dinner with you more than once or twice a week,” she said, looking at her hands in her lap.

He sighed and reached over to tuck some hair behind her ear. “Hey, I know it sucks, but I’m doing this to make sure you don’t have to worry about anything but getting good grades and getting into the college you want, and so you go on and make your dreams come true,” he told her.

If anything, it made her look even sadder. “You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your dreams just to make mine come true,” she argued.

He tugged gently on a long lock. “Making sure you never have to worry about anything again _is_ my dream,” he said. “This job, even though the hours suck”— _and the requirements are degrading—_ “it makes sure I can do that. I’m not smart like you. I’m lucky I got my high school diploma. I’m not going to find something better than this. I’m lucky I got this in the first place.”

Was it twisted that he honestly felt that way? Could he have possibly found anything else he’d be qualified to do that would pay this well? Even though Gareth paid all the bills, Vince knew he had to be making a _lot_ of money for Gareth to be willing to support him like this. They were in a good part of town, in a safe building; Amelie at a good school, expecting to get into a really good local college. There were days that Vince kind of wished he’d thought to go into sex work before Gareth, because he was damn sure it would have paid better than some of the under-the-table things he’d done. Vince was sincerely good at sex, and he was a kinky fucker who liked being controlled, so most of the time, it wasn’t like he didn’t get something out of it too.

“I could get a job—”

He tugged on her hair a little harder this time. “Absolutely not. Focus on your studies. Don’t worry about me.”

“If I don’t, who will?”

Vince opened his arms and grabbed her, pulling her in for a big hug. She laughed a she fell into him, and he breathed her in, knowing she was safe and clean and healthy. “Let me worry about me,” he said.

* * *

Vince gave himself a final onceover in front of the full-length mirror. The dress fit perfectly and flowed beautifully when he moved. He had done his hair pretty much the same way he had before for Jamal, just pulling part of it away from his face and holding it back, though this time he had a more decorative comb holding it back. A little golden eyeshadow, cat eyes—drawing attention to his eyes was always a good call—a little mascara, and a pale pink lip.

He added ivory-glittered Louboutin pumps that had a heel just under four inches and made his legs go on for fucking ever. He didn’t know if he considered himself lucky that he had small feet for a guy of his height, but they were small and narrow enough to fit a woman’s size ten, which meant that he could, in fact, pretty easily fit in even premium women’s brands. The red underside of them was particularly stunning under the green emerald dress.

Gareth had his ears pierced shortly after Vince started working for him, though he didn’t usually wear earrings unless at a client’s request. The emeralds were heavy in his ears, noticeable but not uncomfortable. He straightened his shoulders, pushing out his chest a little bit, which added to the hourglass illusion and made him appear as though he was merely very small breasted. He had to admit, he barely recognized himself, and he couldn’t imagine anyone would suspect he was a man.

“Wow,” Gareth said, stepping up next to him. The heels were high enough that he was a bit taller than Gareth in them—a reason Gareth never had him wear them for himself. The honest admiration made Vince blush, which made Gareth chuckle. He stroked Vince’s neck. “I love that you can still blush.”

“Stop,” he said, walking to the island where a clutch was. Gareth told him there was no way he was wearing a purse with the dress, and no woman would be caught dead without at least a clutch. It was a golden glittery thing. All that was in it was some travel lube, a couple of condoms, a spare pair of slinky black lacy underwear, his lipstick, and a little key. Gareth had taken the liberty to lock his cock up the same way he had the other afternoon after he’d blown Jamal, but he’d put a little padlock—not unlike the ones you might see on a little girl’s diary—on the chain in the back as a special touch. He wasn’t allowed to touch it—it was for Jamal to unlock or not.

Gareth got a text. “Looks like your ride’s here,” he said, grinning, grabbing an old-style fur coat to slide onto Vince’s shoulders. It completed the illusion. “Go on, kitten. Have fun,” he suggested, pushing him out the door.

He was surprised to find Jamal waiting when he stepped off the elevator. “Wow,” he said, his eyes lighting up, running over Vince like he couldn’t believe Vince was for him. Vince gave him a smile, not hesitating to walk over and offer his hand. Jamal took it and kissed the knuckles, as if he were a real lady.

“You look pretty ‘wow’ yourself,” he said, because it was the truth. Jamal was in a black pinstripe suit that was tailored to perfection, accentuating the breadth of his shoulders, the taper of his waist, his height. Vince decided he was at least 6’8”, because even in the 4-inch heels, he had to look up to meet Jamal’s eyes.

Jamal grinned, wide, flashing teeth that were very white against his rich, dark skin. “Shall we, my lady?” he asked, holding out an elbow. Vince took it.

“Lead the way,” he said.

When they got to the limo, Jamal got the door and held it while Vince slid in. He didn’t usually get clients who treated him like an outright whore—he was too expensive to mistreat outright—but Jamal was so enthusiastic and pleased, it felt like it could be a real date. It was flattering in a way he wasn’t used to.

Jamal slid in next to him, shutting the door behind himself blindly, because his eyes were glued to Vince. He reached to put a hand on Vince’s thigh where it was bared by the dress’s high slits, then hesitated. “May I?” he asked, his voice a little gravely, and he looked Vince in the eye as he asked.

Vince shifted to face him more fully and guided his hand to his thigh. “Of course,” he said. Jamal’s large, warm hand felt like it could wrap halfway around his thigh. The fingers slipped into the slit, tickling the hidden inner sensitive thigh, before sliding up a little farther to stroke between Vince’s legs, where Vince’s cock was trapped.

“Is this okay?” Jamal asked, voice low and intimate as he continued the intimate, teasing strokes, his mouth close enough to Vince’s that he could feel Jamaal’s breath on his lips.

“Whatever you want,” Vince said, feeling his cock stir, wanting to get hard, knowing he couldn’t.

Jamal’s hand came up to cup Vince’s face. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

Vince had been right—Jamal had the kind of lips that were meant to be kissed. Large and soft, though assertive and unyielding. Vince opened to him eagerly, his own arms coming up to wrap around Jamal’s neck, pressing them closer together as Jamal licked into his mouth, claiming it as if it were his right. His other hand never stopped stroking Vince’s trapped cock, and the simple tease and strength of him turned Vince on like a light switch.

Jamal eased away, pulling their bodies apart, even as a hand remained on his thigh and he pressed their foreheads together as they both tried to regain their breath.

“Wow,” Jamal said, followed by a deep rumbling laugh.

Vince chuckled softly too. “If that’s what a kiss is like,” he said, soft, low enough that even if the driver weren’t separated, he wouldn’t be able to hear. “I can’t wait to have you inside me.”

Jamal groaned and dropped his head to Vince’s collar. “I have this lovely dinner all planned, and if you keep talking like that, I’m going to say ‘fuck it’ and take you straight home.”

“Whatever you want, gorgeous,” Vince told him with a smile.

Jamal took a deep breath, then sat back up, putting some actual space between them. “I want to do this properly,” he said.

Vince crossed his legs, both because it helped settle his eager, bound cock and because he knew it would tease Jamal. Sure enough, Jamal couldn’t resist reaching out to run a hand over Vince’s calf once it was in easy reach.

“Can you even… like that?” Jamal asked, curious.

“Get hard?” Vince asked, keeping the question low and intimate, reflecting Jamal’s own tone. Jamal nodded. “No. But I have learned that arousal is not just a physical thing—it’s as much in your mind—” He reached out to gently press on Jamal’s forehead before trailing his fingertips down the side of his face. “—as it is in your body.” As he ran his hand down Jamal’s chest, Jamal trapped it. Vince looked back up at him.

“And I turn you on?” Jamal asked.

Vince smiled, bemused because the question seemed sincere. “Have you seen yourself? I’m sure you turn the straight boys’ heads.” Jamal’s complexion was too dark to be sure, but he thought Jamal was blushing if the way he ducked his head was any indicator. “How does a man as beautiful as you not know what you look like?”

“You’re the beautiful one,” Jamal deflected. Vince mentally shrugged. Some clients wanted to be flattered and complimented, but Jamal didn’t appear to be one of them.

“Good thing I’m pretty—I don’t have much else going for me,” he admitted, giving Jamal a self-deprecating grin. He didn’t get tense with clients much these days, but he was extraordinarily relaxed with Jamal.

“I don’t believe that,” Jamal said, frowning. Vince backpedaled. Frowning was bad.

“So, where are you taking me?” he asked. “You know you don’t _have_ to impress me, right? I’m already a sure thing.”

Jamal frowned again. “I like treating my partners well,” he said.

 _I’m not really your partner though_ , Vince thought, a little mournfully. He thought he’d like to be, but he could barely imagine what being someone’s sole partner would be like, had no real concept of a relationship beyond what he vaguely remembered of his parents’. “Then spoil away,” he said instead, pushing the useless thoughts away.

About then the limo stopped and Jamal glanced out the window. “We’re here,” he said. The driver got out and opened the door, but Jamal got out first and held out his hand for Vince to take. He did gratefully—getting out of a car in a dress like that with four-inch stilettos gracefully was a neat trick—but Jamal was like a rock, letting helping pull Vince up as though he weighed nothing. He smiled again as Jamal offered his elbow, and took it. The driver shut the door behind them as Jamal escorted Vince down a red matt under an overhang, and into a nice hotel.

They walked in, Vince’s heels clicking on the tile. The concierge jumped to assist them, obsequious in the way that only men trying to ingratiate themselves were.

“Mr. Smith, can I assist—”

“We have a reservation at Summit,” he said.

“Of course, Mr. Smith. Right this way,” he extended his arm toward an elevator set aside from what appeared to be the normal hotel ones. “They’ll take your coats at the restaurant,” he assured, hitting the button. Even though most of Vince was still hidden by the coat, the concierge gave him serious elevator eyes just as the actual elevator dinged and the doors opened, revealing a glass façade. “This goes straight to the top floor.”

Jamal indicated he should go first, so he did, feeling Jamal step in behind him, putting an arm around his waist. He was the perfect height to murmur into Vince’s ear without bending. “Can you imagine how he’d have looked at you if you _weren’t_ wearing the coat?” he rumbled.

Vince chuckled, both at the thought and because Jamal’s breath tickled.

“So that’s what this is about,” Vince said, careful to keep his voice light and teasing. “You love the illusion, love showing off the shiniest toy,” he reached up behind him to stroke his cheek. “Love knowing only you get to touch me,” he added, lower, breathy, because the size and warmth and presence of Jamal at his back, the gentle but possessive hand on his stomach were serious turn-ons. He was sure he was missing a stunning view of the city, but all of his attention was on the man at his back.

“Maybe,” Jamal admitted with a chuckle. “I forgot to ask—I know Gareth calls you kitten, but what should I call you?”

It was a silly oversight. “Aurum,” he said.

“Aurum?” Jamal asked.

“It’s the Latin word for gold,” Vince explained. Jamal shifted his hand to Vince’s hip and used it to spin him around so they were looking at one another.

Staring into his eyes, Jamal said, “I can see where he got that.”

Vince blushed, and it made Jamal laugh, a deeper, more sincere laugh than he had so far, and it made Vince smile in empathy. The elevator dinged again, and opened. “I believe this is our stop,” Vince reminded.

“I believe it is,” Jamal agreed, offering his elbow again, even as he reached out to hold the door open.

Vince took it, putting a little extra sway into his hips as they approached the desk. He caught a flash of recognition on the host’s face, but it was quickly covered by a professional smile. “Good evening, Mr. Smith,” she greeted. “You are right on time, as usual. Your table is ready. May I take your coat and jacket?” she offered.

“I’m good,” he said, only wearing his suit. The way he radiated heat, Vince could see why. “But I’m sure my companion would appreciate it.”

“If you don’t mind,” Vince agreed, beginning to shrug off the coat, only to have Jamal quickly assist, handing it over to the host without much attention to her. His eyes were for Vince alone as he turned to take his clutch back.

“Wow,” he said, getting the full effect for the first time.

Vince smiled. “You said that when you picked me up.”

“It bears repeating.”

“Someone has good taste,” Vince teased.

Jamal stepped in, wrapping an arm around Vince’s waist to pull him tight to his body, forcing Vince to look up. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

A discreet cough distracted him, and he reluctantly backed away from Vince.

“This way, if you would, Mr. Smith,” the host—her nametag said Sandy—said.

Vince swept his bangs behind an ear. “Thank you, Sandy,” he said, and her smile softened and became more genuine. He linked their arms this time and followed her, steering because Jamal couldn’t seem to take his eyes off Vince. They were escorted to a small, intimate table with floor-to-ceiling windows, set far enough apart from other patrons and shielded by strategically placed dividers to make it very private.

“Wow.” It was Vince’s turn to say it, staring out the window. The view of the city and the river was breathtaking. Jamal’s chuckle made him realize he was holding Vince’s chair out for him. “Sorry,” he said, taking the seat quickly, letting Jamal push him in.

“I take it you haven’t eaten here before,” Jamal said, taking the seat across from him.

“Is it obvious?” he asked, trying to tuck his bangs back behind his ear again, even though he knew it was a lost cause.

“A little. It’s my favorite place to eat. Really amazing food, great service, discreet.”

Vince propped his elbows on the table, laced his fingers, and rested his chin on them. “Everything a professional athlete needs, huh?” he asked.

Jamal had been taking a sip of his water and nearly choked on it. “I…” He coughed. “I wondered if you knew who I was.”

“I don’t,” Vince assured, grinning. “I mean, you’re Jamal Smith, I know that much. And you mentioned the NFL, so…” He gave Jamal his own elevator eyes. “Judging by your build, you _play_. But other than that, it was just an educated guess.”

“Wait, you really don’t know who I am?” Jamal asked.

“Should I?”

“You don’t follow football at all?”

Vince just managed not to laugh. “I work evenings and nights. Even if there are day games, I’m usually sleeping. Besides, I’ve never really followed sports. Not even when I was a kid.”

“Really? You don’t follow anything?”

Vince shrugged, used to the reaction when clients tried to figure out his hobbies. “I don’t have a lot of down time, and from what I’ve seen, being a fan of anything beyond the basest interest requires energy and enthusiasm for it that I don’t have.” He waited a beat, then added, “I save my energies, for… _other_ pursuits.” Jamal had just taken a sip of his water and choked on it.

A waiter came over, and Jamal waved the menus away, ordering for a red wine for them both, along with some special. He figured he’d find out. He wasn’t by any stretch a picky eater, and he didn’t think that Jamal would throw anything too weird his way.

“So what _do_ you do in your down time?’ Jamal asked as the waiter came back and filled their glasses with the red.

Vince waited for him to retreat before answering. “I like yoga,” he admitted.

Jamal laughed. “Yoga?” he asked. “Somehow I didn’t imagine you as the hippy-dippy type.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Vince assured. He took a sip of the red, and _wow_ , that was a good wine. He hmmed in appreciation, and was pleased to see Jamal’s eyes focus on him as he did. “But it’s excellent for staying very… limber,” he said, continuing the previous thought.

He grinned when Jamal actually missed his mouth and almost spilled the wine down the front of his suit.

“Jesus,” he said, jolted out of his staring and setting the wine down. Vince laughed. He kept it quiet, but he couldn’t help it. He’d affected people in similar ways to this, but he usually didn’t get much a chance to do it before was bent over and being fucked. This was… fun.

Vince took another sip of the wine, closing his eyes to enjoy it. When he opened them again, he saw he had Jamal’s whole attention. He cocked and eyebrow and tilted his head in a silent question, and Jamal seemed to snap out of it.

“I could tell you what I do, and it wouldn’t mean a thing to you, would it?” he asked.

Thinking about it for a minute, a small smile playing at his lips, Vince said, “Football is the one with the…” He set the wine glass down and traced the shape of a football in the air. “That weird one, right? That you throw a lot more than you kick, so I never understood why it’s called football.”

Jamal laughed, that warm, deep, rumbling sound, and Vince couldn’t help smiling every time he heard it.

“Yeah, that one,” he confirmed, willing to play along.

The food began to arrive, but between the wine that Jamal was more than generous with, and the good company, Vince honestly couldn’t recall what he ate. He vaguely remembered that it was good, but by the time dessert came along, he was definitely on the line between tipsy and drunk—which was _way_ closer to that line than he usually let himself get. Still, as they’d talked and joked and just enjoyed each other’s company, the heat and anticipation had been building.

“Any chance we can get dessert to go?” Vince asked, biting his lip and looking up through his eyelashes.

Jamal stared at him, hungry. “Ye—” He coughed and cleared his throat. “Yeah. Waiter.” He put his hand up. Less than ten minutes later, they had a to-go bag of crème brulee and chocolate-covered strawberries.

The minute they were both in the back of the limo, Jamal pulled Vince to him, almost into his lap, and took command of his mouth. Vince chased the lingering flavor of the red on his tongue, holding his face as he relaxed into the strong hands on his hips. Vince wasn’t sure how Jamal managed to keep his hands above Vince’s clothing because he sure as fuck wanted Jamal out of that suit.

“Sir?” It took Vince a moment to realize the driver had spoken, and yeah, he should probably be embarrassed, but he really wasn’t.

“Thanks, Nat,” Jamal managed to peel himself off of Vince, get out, and pulled Vince out. Vince followed him and realized they were at a large mansion. “C’mon, pretty boy,” Jamal said, taking his hand, now that they were totally alone.

“Impress me with the mansion later,” Vince told him bluntly, wrapping a hand at the base of Jamal’s neck. “I want you to take me inside and fuck me until I can’t remember my name.” With his body pressed along Jamal’s front, he could feel Jamal’s cock respond to the crass invitation.

Jamal chuckled, that laugh that Vince swore he could feel in his cock.

“Want me that bad, baby?”

“Was I not clear?”

“You’re very clear, pretty boy. But let’s get inside first.”

Somehow, they made it to the door and into the mansion. Jamal slammed him against the door as soon as it closed, pressing a thigh between Vince’s legs, rubbing up against him. It was delicious torture, tucked the way he was.

“Can you cum like this, pretty boy?” Jamal growled against his throat.

Vince gasped as he pressed up particularly hard, tipping the pleasure over into pain territory. “Depends,” he sighed as the leg retreated.

“Depends?”

“On your definition of cumming,” Vince said, still breathy.

Jamal backed off further, and even though it allowed Vince to think a little clearer, he whimpered in longing. “What do you mean?”

“I can orgasm…” He gasped again as Jamal’s thigh pressed up again. “Dry orgasm… like this. Can’t… ejaculate if… I’m empty…”

“ _Fuck_ ,” was Jamal’s response, and judging by the way Vince could feel his cock tenting his pants, he thought the idea appealed to Jamal. “How many times?” he asked.

“Huh?” was Vince’s intelligent reply.

“How many times can I make you cum, pretty boy?” He ground his knee up again in that perfect pressure, and Vince’s head fell back against the door as he moaned.

“As… many… times… as you… want,” he panted out, riding the knee. If he hadn’t been so turned on by and attracted to Jamal all night, he probably couldn’t have cum from this alone, but, he’d been fighting banked arousal all evening, and he felt close.

“As many times?” Jamal asked. “Really?” He slipped a hand into the deep V of Vince’s dress and twisted a nipple _hard_ , and that was it. “ _Christ_ , pretty boy,” he said, sounding awed. “Did you just cum?”

Vince allowed himself a minute to catch his breath, the aftershocks still tingling through him. “Yes,” he said. With the immediate edge taken off, Vince could think a little clearer. He was still turned on, still wanted the man before him, but now he could do it _right_. He pulled Jamal’s head down and kissed him hard, as claiming as Jamal had been earlier. When he broke the kiss, he opened his eyes and met Jamal’s. “But I still want to cum on your dick.” He felt Jamal’s member twitch against his stomach. He tilted his head to lick a broad stripe up Jamal’s throat. “I want to ride you till you beg to cum,” he said, and felt a whole-body shudder go through Jamal. “And I want to cum all over your chest just from having this big, fat dick”—he reached down and squeezed Jamal’s member gently through his pants—“in my tight little hole. Do you want that, baby?” he asked.

Without warning, he was flipped around, his front pressed to the door, Jamal heavy at his back, grinding into his ass. “Oh, pretty boy,” he growled into Vince’s ear. “I think you misunderstood something.” He reached between Vince’s legs, up under the dress, and squeezed Vince’s still-soft dick, getting a whine. “I’m not the one who begs.”

Those words, that tone, combined with a little too much to drink and the endorphins of the orgasm, started to send Vince under. He moaned. “Yes, please,” he said. “Make me what you want…”

Jamal pulled back. “Come on, then, pretty boy. I got just the place for you to strip for me.” He took Vince’s hand and dragged him into the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will unashamedly ask to keep the kudos and comments coming (yes, yes, very punny). The definitely are driving the muse.


	10. Seduction and a Shower

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2000 hits in two days, guys? You're amazing.

Vince followed Jamal back to a luxurious bedroom. He had a moment to appreciate the obvious Japanese inspiration as Jamal got his music going. He took the key out of the clutch before setting it aside on a bench facing the bed.

“Alexa,” Jamal said, paused for the sensor to light up. “Play my ‘Music to get Laid by’ playlist.”

Something a little electro and with a smooth rhythm started. Not entirely what Vince would have expected, but he could definitely work with it. He walked Jamal back to the bed, stopping to tease him with a kiss. When he broke it, he murmured, “You wanted a show,” against Jamal’s lips, then pressed the key into Jamal’s hand. “A present for you… to open or not, as you want.”

He began by unlacing the corset-style belt, eyes on Jamal as he did. He swayed gently with the music as he did, enjoying by how completely focused on him Jamal was. When the belt released, he gasped, feeling like he was taking the first full breath in hours. He leaned back in, and propped a foot on the bed, next to Jamal. He turned and buried his face in that intimate skin on the inside of Vince’s thigh, and lifted his leg to pull off the heel. He dropped it to the floor carelessly and kissed up Vince’s thigh, all the way to the join of his hip. He backed off, but not before running a hand down Vince’s trapped cock, getting a sigh.

“Gimme the other one, pretty boy,” Jamal said, and Vince did, burying his bare toes in the thick carpet as he changed feet. This time, Jamal didn’t stop when he got to the join of Vince’s thigh, lifting the dress to see the black lace underwear. “ _Fuck_ ,” Jamal said, voice dropping before he placed a kiss right above where Vince’s cock began, and stroked him through the lace panties. “So fuckin’ hot, knowing you’re tucked away for me.”

Vince sucked in a breath, his cock trying in vain to fill. He slid onto Jamal’s lap, rubbing them together and pushing Jamal’s suit jacket off his shoulders. He obliged and removed it, then let Vince unbutton his shirt, leaning forward to place teasing kisses against the skin as it was revealed. Jamal reached behind him and found the zipper on the back of the dress. Vince may not like dressing like a woman, but he could admit there was something about having someone zip you in or out of a dress that was hot. He pushed the shirt off Jamal’s shoulders, then stood and took a couple steps back.

Without the back zipped, he shifted one side of the dress to just barely hang on to his shoulder, then did the same with the other side, opening the V in the front wide enough to completely bare his pecs. He teased Jamal by reaching a hand up to caress his neck while the other slid under the waist of the dress to caress where his balls were tucked away. Jamal licked his lips, eyes glued to Vince as he teased. Without warning, Vince dropped his arms to his sides and the dress slid off him to pool around his feet. He thought he heard Jamal gasp and gave him a sly smile. He was clad only in the necklace Jamal had sent him, the lace panties, and the silver chain that wrapped around his waist, resting on his hips.

The song changed to one with a more throbbing beat that Vince was able to able to really dance to, using some of the tricks he learned in ballroom to mimic belly dancing. He danced to the song for the first verse, but when the chorus kicked in, he slid between Jamal’s legs, spreading them wide so he could give him a proper teasing lap dance. He dipped and dropped and rubbed and teased, giving himself over to the music and the tease. He was so deep, he was startled when Jamal grabbed him and pulled him tight against his lap, his hard cock teasing Vince’s hole through his pants and Vince’s panties.

“Take these off,” Jamal growled into his ear, stroking the panties.

Vince pushed himself away but didn’t turn to face Jamal, instead sliding his fingertips under the sides and peeling them down his legs, showing off his ass as he bent, as well as his chained cock. He looked over his shoulder as he stood back up, before turning around and going back to slide into Jamal’s lap and teased himself by rubbing his trapped cock against Jamal’s pants.

He wasn’t that surprised when he was all but thrown into the middle of the bed. It was tempting to close his thighs—being tucked like this prickled at what little body shame he had left—but Jamal shucked his own pants quickly then followed Vince up to the bed like a predator. He grabbed Vince’s legs and spread him, getting a perfect view of him. The heat in his eyes as he took in Vince was scorching.

Jamal leaned forward and nosed at where Vince’s balls were tucked. Vince wasn’t sure how it felt—it was a new sensation and not an entirely welcome one, but Jamal moved on quickly to lick a long line up Vince’s trapped dick, getting a whine out of Vince.

“Can I fuck you like this?” Jamal asked, leaning up. His other hand caressed Vince’s length, following it to where the head tucked up against his hole.

“What… whatever… you want,” Vince assured, even as part of him wanted to scream in frustration. He’d been turned on for so long without being able to even get _hard_. But this wasn’t about him. It was about his client. He put his hands above his head, crossing his wrists.

Jamal rubbed his full length against Vince’s, getting another whine, then his hand slid under Vince’s back and slid down, tracing the chain between his cheeks, then pushing it aside to push two fingertips inside. Vince sighed because it made him desperately aware of how empty he had been. He lifted his hips to press into those fingers, wanting to get them deeper.

“God, it’d be hot to fuck you like this…” Jamal sighed, barely audible over the music.

Vince rolled his hips. “Then do it,” he encouraged.

Jamal lifted his hips as if he weighed nothing, and the head of that big cock rubbed against the head of Vince’s own cock, then poked at his hole. Vince caught his breath, because he might be lubed, but Jamal was large enough that taking him with no prep would…

Actually, if he went slow, it would be _amazing_ to be stretched by that dick.

“Fuck.” Jamal flipped him onto his stomach, and Vince looked over his shoulder as Jamal scrambled for the key on the bed. “As amazing as it’d be fuck you like this, pretty boy, I wanna see you cum on my cock.”

Vince got his knees up under him and spread them, pushing back. Jamal grabbed the little padlock and unlocked it. The chain dropped from around his waist to the bed, and his dick began immediately filling as it was released. His balls dropped back down, and he gasped with it as the chain slithered off him.

“On your back, pretty boy. Let me see all of you.”

Vince did as asked, pulling his knees up to put himself on full display. Jamal stared, hungry. His hand reached out and pulled on Vince’s guiche, getting him to lift his hips.

Jamal leaned forward so his whole body hovered over Vince’s, his legs between Vince’s own, even as he kept pulling and twisting and pushing at that piercing. “So good,” he gasped out.

“Can you cum from this?”

Vince shook his head. “No,” he said, even though his toes curled from the play. “Need you,” he said. “Need you inside me. Need you to stretch me, open me up.”

“Are you empty?” Jamal asked, dropping the piercing and reaching between Vince’s cheeks, just teasing Vince’s hole.

“ _Yes_ ,” he said.

Jamal rolled them, putting Vince on top of him. It took him a moment to reorient, but he could feel Jamal hard and waiting behind him.

“Can you take me like this? Can you fuck yourself open on my cock, pretty boy?” He took Vince’s cock in his hand and stroked it, and _fuck_ , it was hard to think with a hand on his dick. He was so used to his cock being bound and plugged and otherwise ignored that it could be almost too much when it was given attention.

He braced his hands on those absolutely rock hard abs—Jamal really _was_ a specimen—and nodded. “Whatever you want… just say the word.”

Jamal shifted them, sitting up a little more fully and bring Vince with him. “Okay, pretty boy. I wanna watch you.”

For a moment, Vince was confused, because sitting up actually made it more difficult to see what he was doing, then he realized that Jamal was staring at his face. Jamal didn’t want to watch his dick disappear into Vince—he wanted to watch Vince’s face as he took it.

He blushed but raised himself up, placing a hand on Jamal’s shoulder for balance, using his other hand to guide Jamal’s length. Guiding himself onto someone like this would never not recall that first night with Gareth—bringing back both the memories of the pleasure and the shame.

He bounced a little to loosen up his guard ring, not able to really force himself open, but the mere promise of being filled made his body respond accordingly. When he lowered himself a third time with intention, his guard muscle gave and the head popped in. Vince’s own head fell back as he closed his eyes and sighed.

Jamal’s big hands roamed over his body, caressing his sides, kneading his ass, stroking his thighs. “That’s it, pretty boy. You love being filled, don’t you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Vince admitted, sinking a little lower, groaning at the stretch. He rose up a little—nowhere near enough for Jamal to slip out—then pressed back down a little more, gaining another inch. “ _So_ good,” he moaned, putting his other hand on Jamal’s shoulder and lifting his head again. He met Jamal’s eyes, then raised and dropped again, probably getting another two inches this time.

“More, pretty boy.”

Vince raised again, dropping again, groaning as deeper places continued to stretch. He twitched his hips back up a little, then pushed down again—this time getting Jamal’s dick deep enough to set off his trigger. His orgasm blindsided him, and he wasn’t sure if his legs gave out, Jamal thrust up, or both, but he slid down, taking in the last four inches of Jamal in while in the throes of cumming.

When he came back to himself, he was still impaled on that large, hard, beautiful dick, his forehead rested on Jamal’s collar. The scent of his own cum was heavy in the air, and he could feel where it was cooling on his chest.

“Fuck, pretty boy. You almost took me with you,” Jamal said into his ear with a chuckle. A huge hand cupped Vince’s ass and rubbed at the rim of hole where it was stretched around that generous member. “Didn’t expect you to cum just from getting my dick in you.” Jamal gave a small thrust, and Vince whimpered, oversensitive.

“You’ve been teasing me for hours,” he muttered, almost whining, into Jamal’s neck.

“It was fucking hot,” Jamal assured. He ran a finger through the cum on Vince’s chest, then raised it to Vince’s lips. Vince opened his mouth, accepting it. He didn’t _mind_ swallowing when he was giving a blow job. He was less enamored with licking cum off someone or having it fed to him, especially if it were cooling. That said, he was used to it and didn’t dare hesitate as Jamal methodically wiped every bit of cum he could find on Vince’s chest, then his own, and fed it to him. Vince sucked the fingers clean as if he were fed a treat, knowing how it would affect Jamal, and knowing that’s what he would expect.

“Jesus, fuck. You could tempt a fucking saint.”

“Shut up and fuck me properly,” Vince told him. To his relief, Jamal chuckled and then began to do just that.

“I want to fuck all the cum out of you, pretty boy. Fuck you till you beg me to stop.”

Vince gasped as a hard thrust hit his prostate, but he wasn’t hard enough yet to cum again. Not just yet. He wrapped his arms around Jamal’s neck and held on for the ride.

* * *

The sound of a shower seeped from Vince’s dreams to wake him up. He moved to stretch and felt the ache in his thighs that meant he’d ridden someone for quite some time. If he was sore now, he was going to be regretting it for the next couple days at least. He groaned into the pillow, remembering that Jamal had kept his promise to fuck Vince until he begged him to stop. The man was not just well-endowed, he had some more than impressive stamina, making Vince come on his dick three times before he finally fucked himself to completion. By that time, Vince had been a sobbing, begging mess of need and overstimulation. Small wonder he had blacked out, especially when he remembered how much wine he had with dinner. Fortunately, it wasn’t enough to give him a hangover, something he privately thanked his Russian heritage for. He had to drink a _lot_ to get a hangover.

He pushed himself up on his elbows and ran a hand through his hair, snagging on the comb. He was surprised that was still in, but he must not have moved once he blacked out. He pulled it out and ruffled his hair, soothing his scalp. He almost rubbed at his eyes before he remembered that he’d been wearing makeup. Instead he rubbed his fingers under his eyes. The sides of his fingers came away smudged with black, so he probably looked like a racoon. He specifically didn’t use waterproof makeup because most clients liked to see it smear and run as he sweat or cried. The lace necklace itched where it had pressed into his skin, so he reached up and undid the clasp. He set the necklace on the nightstand, debated adding the earrings to it, then decided to leave them in.

He glanced up and startled when he realized that the reason he could hear the shower so clearly was because there was a glass wall separating the shower from the bedroom. Jamal was watching him through it, so that went both ways, apparently. He crooked a finger at Vince, so Vince slid out of the bed, pausing before standing because he wasn’t 100% certain his legs were going to hold when he tried to stand. An alarm clock caught his notice—it was only 11:00. He wasn’t sure when he had passed out, but he probably hadn’t been out for more than an hour, which made him feel a little better.

Heaving himself to his feet gracelessly, he gave himself a mental high five for not promptly collapsing. Standing definitely made him aware of how very thoroughly he’d been used. Gareth was the largest regular Vince had, and Jamal had about an inch in length—and more importantly—an inch in girth on him. It still made him smaller than Mr. Le Roi, but not by much, and Vince hadn’t actually _taken_ Mr. Le Roi.

Standing was still only step one; he had to actually get to the shower. He took a guess on where the door was, and was right. It didn’t look like it locked, so he stepped in and joined Jamal, who looked more than a little smug. Vince didn’t begrudge him it. If he’d fucked someone like Vince out like that, he probably would be feeling a little smug too.

“Doing aright there, pretty boy?” he asked.

The floor of the shower was river rock, so it wasn’t overly slippery, which was good, ’cause it wouldn’t take to land Vince on his sore ass.

“A little sore,” he admitted, because the question seemed an honest one.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I? I’m… not usually that…”

Vince stretched his arms over his head and held it for a ten count before answering. “I’m fine,” he assured, stepping into Jamal and, not incidentally, into his shower spray. “Were you satisfied?” he asked.

Jamal reached over and plucked a washcloth off a built-in towel bar and handed it to Vince.

“As hot as it was to make you cry with need… you’re looking a little…”

Vince could guess based on how uneasy Jamal had gotten since he’d gotten a closer look at Vince. He ran the washcloth over an eye. The one advantage of using makeup that ran was that it also came off pretty easily. Three good swipes with the washcloth over each eye was enough to get the cloth to come away clean. “Better?” he asked.

Jamal’s shoulders visibly loosened.

“Yeah,” he said, cupping Vince’s cheek, running a thumb under where some of the makeup must have been.

“You didn’t answer me. Are you satisfied?”

“You can’t…”

Vince grinned. “I probably can’t cum again tonight, but I _can_ still orgasm, and you have me till morning.” He poked Jamal in the chest. “Get your money’s worth.” Jamal frowned, and Vince reached up to soothe the frown lines away. “Don’t,” he said. “Don’t feel bad, okay. Being with you has been a pleasure. Don’t let your conscience screw it up now. Just… enjoy it.” He looked up through his lashes and bit his lip, knowing how it innocent it made him look. “Enjoy me.”

Jamal sighed, moving his hand back to cup the back of Vince’s head. “Okay, pretty boy. You win.”

The weight of his hand on the back of Vince’s neck felt good, secure, safe. Vince opened his mouth to tell him his name, but managed to bite it back at the last second. Jamal might be an unusually nice and sincere guy for a client, but he was still a client. This wasn’t a real date. The only time Vince would ever spend with him was time he paid for.

He could still enjoy the fantasy while it lasted. Good memories to get through the rough clients. He put his arms around Jamal’s waist and pressed their bodies together. Sure enough, Jamal stirred against his stomach. Without his heels, Jamal had a solid half foot and change on him. Vince lifted his head and closed his eyes as Jamal leaned down for a kiss. Their tongues tangled, teasing, growing more heated. Vince’s own overspent cock barely twitched, but Jamal hardened quickly. He walked Vince over to the wall and pressed him there, kissing him like he was a favorite candy.

An arm reached out, and Jamal pulled back just long enough to pour something on his hands and dick. When his hands returned to Vince, they were slick, and he lifted Vince off his feet, bracing him against the shower wall.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he said, but Vince was already doing so, wanting to be more secure than the slick shower wall. Jamal shifted him, reaching under Vince’s ass and guiding himself back to Vince’s entrance. “Tell me—” he began, urgent, but Vince interrupted.

“Yes,” he said, sure and without hesitation. “Yes, inside me, yes.”

Jamal didn’t ask again, burying himself in one long, sure thrust that had Vince clinging to him and gasping. He still wasn’t hard, couldn’t get hard, but it still felt good. The angle was unique and awesome, and the added logistic of supporting most of his own weight meant that every thrust went particularly deep and was particularly hard. In short, it was the kind of sex that hit a lot of Vince’s buttons, so when Jamal sped up, chasing his own completion, he took Vince with him as he came.

When Jamal set Vince down, Vince gave up all pretense of having strength left in his legs and sank to the floor. Jamal crouched in front of him, worried, but Vince chuckled. “You expect my legs to work after that?” he asked.

“You’re really—”

Vince tossed his hand through a shower spray, splashing Jamal. “I’m just fine. I’d love to see you try to stand after getting that thoroughly fucked.”

“You didn’t cum though.”

Forcing his legs to work, he shifted to kneel up and took Jamal’s face between his hands, kissing him firmly. “Orgasmed,” he assured when they broke apart. “Trust me, it’s not _less_ , just different. Now help me up so I can actually get washed off.”

Jamal did, but he had a look in his eye now that never boded well for Vince. “Exactly how many times can you orgasm?”

 _Fuck_.

Then again, with this man… he didn’t dread that look and that question as much as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not shy about begging for more kudos and more comments. I love them. 
> 
> Plan is to post the first chapter of AU tomorrow. Uh, it didn't really start the way I thought it would, so be warned. In some ways, it's rougher than Prepared is right now. Looks like Gareth'll show up in Chapter 4. There's even a chapter *gasp/horror* that _doesn't have sex_. Horrifying, I know. Looks like it'll be more plot with smut rather than smut with a (growing) plot. Hope you enjoy? Look for that coming tomorrow. I'll link it and Prepared in as series, so it'll be easy to find.


	11. Fistfulls Part 1

At some point, Jamal had snuck back to the kitchen to put their desserts in the fridge. He had brought the brulees back to bed while Vince dozed after being made to orgasm yet again, and enjoyed feeding Vince the dessert while he recovered himself. Vince enjoyed it—he had a sweet tooth that he didn’t get to indulge very often—but he could tell by the look in Jamal’s eye, he wasn’t done.

Vince was tempted to tell Jamal that he was exhausted and sore and didn’t want to play anymore, but that wasn’t his right or his place. Jamal had paid for him, and Vince—stupidly—encouraged him to get his money’s worth.

Jamal reached over and picked the necklace up off the nightstand. “Sit up, for me, pretty boy.”

It took more effort than Vince wanted to admit not to groan and hiss. The athletic sex on top of whatever the fuck Gareth had done to him the previous day—his memory was always iffy when he was in that headspace—and Mr. Nawamoto’s work were all combining to push him from “aching” to “in pain.” Letting Jamal see his discomfort—unless he expected to—was unacceptable, so Vince tried to push it into him mental box of “things not to think about,” but it wasn’t working as well as usual.

He sat up, and Jamal indicated he wanted him to turn around, so he did, putting his back to him. Jamal reached over him, the necklace passing in front of Vince’s eyes. He reached behind himself to lift his still-damp hair out of the way automatically. The weight of it settled again, and Vince felt Jamal press a kiss to the top of his spine, just below where the necklace clasped.

“How are you doing, pretty boy?” Jamal asked, reaching around with both hands to pluck and play with Vince’s nipples. Vince gasped, arching into the touch, not sure when he had become that responsive to nipple play. With Jamal, though, it was far more intense than usual. His cock twitched. Vince would laugh at his body’s eagerness if he weren’t so distracted. “Why don’t you have these pierced if they make you feel this good?” he asked, pulling on them both, sending a full-body shudder through Vince, and his cock made a valiant effort to respond.

“Not…” He gasped at another rough pinch. “My… call.”

“Can I make you cum like this?” He kissed Vince’s shoulder and bit gently, careful not to leave marks. Even hickeys weren’t allowed. He cupped Vince’s pecs like they were breasts to knead them, and Vince arched his back to press into his hands. The pleasure was pushing the pain to the background nearly as well as medication would.

“I don’t…” he trailed off as one of Jamal’s hands gave up torturing a nipple and slid down his side before cupping his ass, then finally sliding into his crack, where he teased Vince’s hole. “Yes,” he said as a finger slipped in, followed closely by a second.

“Yes?” Jamal asked, and the rumble of his voice against Vince’s throat made him shiver.

“If you’re… going to play with my ass… yes, I can…” A third finger pressed in pretty easily despite the awkward angle. Jamal _was_ big, and while Vince would tighten back up, it would probably be at least a day. Even well-stretched, Jamal was a big man with big hands and three fingers were deliciously filling. Vince’s hips began to rock unconsciously, wanting those fingers deeper.

“God, pretty boy, do you know what you do to a man, fucking yourself like this?” Jamal’s voice had dropped again. Vince was pretty sure the question was rhetorical, so he didn’t answer, simply throwing his head back and letting himself sink into the sensation as Jamal played with him like a toy.

When a fourth finger prodded his entrance, his breathing hitched, but his hole relaxed, his body knowing what he wanted better than his brain did, and it slipped in next to Jamal’s other three fingers. When Jamal lined up his fingers so the flat of his hand was like a blade, Vince keened and convulsed as he orgasmed on the spot.

Jamal didn’t move his hand as Vince rode out the aftershocks. “Holy fuck, pretty boy. Did you just come from my hand?” he asked, then spread his fingers wide.

Vince scrambled to reach behind himself, desperate to hang onto something as he orgasmed again. He was sinking deeper, into that place where there was no thought, just sensation and his Master’s desire.

“I want you over my knees, pretty boy,” Jamal said, a growl flavoring his voice, and Vince whined, pressing back into the hand still half in his ass. He whined again when Jamal removed his hand. “Over my lap, pretty boy.”

Jamal straightened his legs, grabbed a couple pillows with the hand that hadn’t been in Vince, and set them to the side. Vince went to lay on his lap, but he had him turn onto his back, then pushed his chest to lean him back. Vince went easily, letting himself get comfortable on the pillows while his ass remained in Jamal’s lap. “Hands above your head, baby.” Vince lifted them, and Jamal stroked his abdomen. “God, you are beautiful.” He took Vince’s balls into his hand, kneading them for a moment, before stroking the underside of Vince’s cock, pressing it to Vince’s stomach. It was most of the way to hard now, but he wasn’t likely to ejaculate much, even if he could. It wasn’t his first time being forced to cum until he was truly empty, and he recognized the feelings of overuse.

“So, I have something I’ve wanted to do, and have never done before,” Jamal said, conversationally, even as he continued to lazily stroke Vince’s dick.

“Who would tell you no?” Vince asked, watching him through lidded eyes, a little bit more back in his own head once his ass had been emptied.

Jamal chuckled, and the sound of it seemed like it tickled across Vince’s skin. “Given how intimidated most men are of my dick”—he dropped his hand to rub at Vince’s entrance— “They’re not usually eager to let me put my hand inside them.” He held up the hand in question as if to show it off.

Vince stared at it, imagining how big it would be inside, how it would feel to be stretched around that hand as it opened, and his cock jumped as he moaned.

“That turn you on, baby? Thinking about my hand inside you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Vince admitted. He’d been fisted before—a number of times—and it was, literally, breathtaking. That said, he didn’t think he’d ever taken a hand as big as Jamal’s, but _holy fuck_ , he wanted to. “It’s easier from behind, though,” Vince admitted.

“Yeah, but I wanna watch your face. You said you do yoga, right?” he asked. Vince nodded. Jamal lifted his right calf—the one closest to Jamal’s body—and kept pushing, making him stretch, until his calf was hooked over Jamal’s neck. “How ’bout this, baby? You okay like this?”

Vince could feel the stretch, but he nodded because it was a light stretch, a good one, the kind that preluded deeper stretches, so he thought he could hold the position for a while comfortably.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” he asked, grabbing the lube he’d grabbed at some point and pouring it all over his right hand, coating the whole hand generously, down to his wrist.

He forced himself to meet Jamal’s eyes and relaxed even deeper into the pillows. “Whatever you want,” he said.

Jamal didn’t hesitate before pushing three fingers back into him. He followed with four quickly, lining up his fingers again, and Vince gasped at the way they stretched him, especially as Jamal turned his wrist, stretching him from all angles. He pushed in until his thumb slipped into his guiche ring, rubbing at his taint even as the widest part of his hand stretched the guard muscle. Vince gasped and arched into the feeling, turning his hands so he could grip the pillow.

“God, you are so pretty like this, baby. Just relax, let me in.” He pulled his hand back, and when he pushed forward again, Vince could feel the thumb folded into the cone shape he made with his hand. After being stretched by the full width of Jamal’s hand, the whole hand pressed in with relatively little resistance. Vince orgasmed again when his guard muscle tightened around Jamal’s wrist, but his whole hand is inside. Jamal stroked his cock with his spare hand, and it was too much. He writhed on the hand inside him, breathing hard, gasping, really. It was too much and exactly enough and he needed _more_ , and Vince had no idea how to feel.

Then Jamal pushed deeper, so deep the knuckles of his hand rub right over Vince’s trigger, and his cock gave a few pathetic dribbles as he came with a cry. Every movement stretched Vince deeper than he had been all night.

Somehow, it was both amazing and awful.

Jamal pushed his fist deeper, murmuring encouragements and compliments that were lost on Vince. His world had been reduced to the hand in his ass. Jamal pushed even deeper, and Vince keened, thrashing uselessly. Then Jamal _opened his hand_.

Vince orgasmed so hard that he blacked out. When he came to, Jamal’s hand was still buried deep within him, but he had moved. Jamal braced an arm next to Vince’s head and leaned over him, alternating between watching Vince’s face and watching his stomach. When Vince looked down, he could see why: Jamal’s hand pressed on him from the inside, distending his stomach visibly. It sent another shudder through Vince.

“Welcome back, baby,” Jamal said. He closed his hand into a fist inside Vince, and Vince could do nothing but lay there and feel. “How’re you feeling?” he asked.

Vince stared at him, because Jamal actually wanted him to _speak_? He opened and closed his mouth uselessly, so instead he slid a hand down to his stomach, feeling Jamal’s hand on the outside, and he threw his head back and moaned. Jamal opened his hand again, and if Vince weren’t so incredibly fucked out, he thought he might cum again. Vince rubbed his hand over Jamal’s and Jamal pressed his fingers up firmly, firmly enough that they could almost lace with Vince’s, and that did it—Vince orgasmed yet again. Jamal pulled his hand back some, and the heel of it pressed hard on Vince’s prostate—so hard he orgasmed _again_ and screamed, because at that point, it was definitely too much. Every twitch, every movement, it was all way too much.

Jamal shifted and his cock was rock hard again. He rubbed it against Vince’s abdomen, where his hand is outlined. He began to thrust and it took Vince an embarrassingly long time to realize that he was trying to jerk himself _through_ Vince’s stomach. He rubbed up against Vince’s oversensitized cock as he did, frotting them as he jerked himself off.

When Jamal cupped his fingers, trying to make something of a tunnel for his cock, Vince screamed again—he had no idea if it was in pleasure or pain, at that point, he was pretty sure they were the same thing—orgasmed again, and either blacked out or whited out. He wasn’t aware of Jamal coming all over his chest. The next thing he was aware of was his ass stretching around Jamal’s hand as he removed it. Jamal licked his chest, eating his own cum off Vince like it was some sort of treat, then he latched onto on of Vince’s nipples, and made him arch off the bed.

Vince finally found his voice as Jamal’s other hand, the one that had just been inside him, found his other nipple and began pulling and teasing it while he nibbled and sucked on the other.

“Too much,” he gasped out. “Too… fuck… oh… my… _God_!” he yelled when, instead of stopping, Jamal sucked hard and pulled hard, and _fuck_ , since when did he orgasm from nipple play alone? Jamal leaned up and kissed him, deep, claiming, as if he was trying to fuck his tongue down Vince’s throat as he lay dazed.

“So,” Jamal said, breaking the kiss before diving in for another hard peck. “Fucking.” Another kiss. “Hot.” He kissed up Vince’s cheek, kissing his temple. He manhandled Vince’s boneless, unresponsive body up next to him, settling Vince’s head over his heart. “Go ahead and sleep, baby.” Vince slid into deep sleep listening to the whoosh and thud of Jamal's heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, I have no idea what happened. I swear I thought I had posted this. I was working on chapter 13 and realized that I somehow only had 11 chapters posted. So... here you go. 
> 
> You didn't think that I skipped writing the Jamal fisting Vince scene, did you?


	12. Fistfulls Part 2

Vince woke up to a hard thrust into his prostate.

“Morning, baby,” was murmured in his ear as an unusually well-endowed man plowed into him. “God, still so stretched from last night… I can just fuck right into you.”

That brought things back. Jamal. He was at Jamal’s home, being fucked awake. He groaned and buried his face into the pillow, and he was sure Jamal mistook it as him enjoying it. Nope. A client waking him up with a fucking was not any better than Gareth doing it. He tried to ride it out, bearing it until Jamal came. When Jamal’s hand reached around to take his cock in hand, Vince whined.

“Too much,” he gasped, adding breathiness, trying to pry Jamal’s hand off his dick.

“Want you to cum with me,” Jamal growled in his ear, and his hips began to jackhammer right into Vince’s prostate while the hand still on his not fully hard dick tried to bring him with. “ _Cum_ ,” Jamal nearly snarled.

The orgasm blindsided Vince as his still mostly empty balls tried to answer the command. It left him honestly gasping to catch his breath as Jamal finished in him with his own groan.

 _What the fuck just happened?_ he wondered. He hadn’t even been fully _hard_ , his body only barely beginning to warm to being fucked, and then he was _cumming_? Why? _How_? His balls were spent from the previous night, and he knew from experience that it should be a day or two before he was ready to cum with any sort of ejaculate. But still, he came… _on command._

A fuzzy memory of recovering in the tub with Gareth swam up in his mind. _“Come”_ murmured in his ear in Gareth’s deep and satisfied commanding tone. Just the vague memory of it, with Jamal’s dick still in his ass, was enough to trigger an aftershock. Jamal moaned into the back of his neck as Vince tightened around his oversensitive member.

“God, baby, I don’t think I can go another round.”

He blinked at the baby, then remembered that sometime last night he’d gone from “pretty boy” to “baby.” _Fuck_ , he thought. _Not another one_.

Another one who thought they could buy him instead of rent him. Another one who forgot that this was a transaction. It was always the ones who started out nice who forgot. He looked around, but he wasn’t facing the clock. The sun outside suggested it was mid-to-late morning.

He remembered something else from earlier last night. “Alexa,” he said, waited for the responder to light up. “What time is it?” he asked.

“It’s 10:43 a.m,” it informed.

Perfect timing. The car would pick him up at eleven. He dragged himself out of the bed.

“Do you mind if I hop into your shower real quick?” Vince asked.

“Go for it, babe.”

He turned and… remembered the completely transparent wall. Right. Voyeur. He dismissed the hesitation. He didn’t have time to linger. He jumped in, mostly rinsing himself off, but he did take a couple moments to reach inside and try to clean out at least some of the cum there. He could never decide if it was morning after that was the worst or fresh. If he were totally honest, he preferred sex with a condom if for nothing else than the cleanliness factor. He could see Jamal watching him, but he ignored the man. They really didn’t even have time for a quickie.

He got out of the shower and used a towel to roughly dry his hair, then finger combed it as best he could before drying his body off. While he’d been stoutly ignoring Jamal, he had apparently gathered his dress and underwear, because when Vince stepped back into the room, Jamal had both waiting for him.

“I don’t think anything of mine will fit you,” Jamal said, holding up the underwear.

Only professionalism kept Vince from rolling his eyes. It was more of a case that Jamal just wanted to see him in the dress again. “Thank you,” he said, reaching for the underwear.

“Do you need to…”—He ran his eyes down Vince’s frame, resting at his crotch. Vince hadn’t bothered bringing a towel out with him because he really didn’t have any body shyness left these days. “Tuck?” he asked.

Vince blinked at him for a moment, thought about the lines of the dress, and decided it wasn’t the worst idea. The dress was so filmy that if the wind blew right and he _wasn’t_ tucked, he’d present quite an obscene picture.

He raised his eyes to meet Jamal’s. “Would you like to watch?” he asked, making his voice sultry, even though he found this process anything but.

“Yeah…” Jamal breathed out.

 _Don’t roll your eyes. Don’t roll your eyes._ The façade was always hardest to maintain right after he woke up, part of the reason that, as a general rule, _he didn’t stay the night with clients_. Even if sessions ended extremely late, he usually went home or to Gareth’s apartment.

He didn’t want to do this and somehow make it sexy. It is way too fucking early and he hadn’t had coffee. Still, the customer got what the customer wanted, and he didn’t have time to drag this out anyway. He sat on the bed, facing Jamal, and put one foot up on the bed, spreading his legs wide. He could see Jamal’s pupils grow as he watched, which was something he usually got at least a little bit of a kick out of.

Not when he’d been awake for less than ten minutes and had been woken up by getting fucked, though.

He made himself toss his hair back and looked at Jamal through lidded eyes. He lifted one ball, finding its nook, as he thought of it, and slipping it in. He gasped as if it felt good to do that. It didn’t really. It felt weird before he was used to it, and now it didn’t feel any weirder or more sensual than twisting an earlobe would if you weren’t having sex. He shifted the foot still on the floor to spread a tiny bit wider and repeated the process, complete with a moan that should be obviously fake since he wasn’t the least bit hard, but Jamal seemed to buy it. What? Did he think Vince just couldn’t get hard because his balls were tucked?

Come to think of it, it was possible that he thought exactly that.

Vince pulled his cock down between his legs, then stood, holding it up behind him. He slinked over to Jamal and glanced at him through his eyelashes. “Want to help me put on my panties?” he asked.

Fuck, how did he even do this with a straight face most nights? He really should not be allowed around clients first thing in the morning. It always made him very aware of the absurdity and silliness, if not outright stupidity, of some of the shit that turned people on. Though, to be fair, he still didn’t really get the whole dressing up guys as girls thing. He dealt with it, because, well, he didn’t have a choice, but he didn’t think he’d ever totally understand it. If you wanted a girl— _fuck a girl_. Seemed logical to Vince.

Jamal held out the black lacy underwear, and Vince somehow found a shy smile for him as he stepped into it, allowing Jamal to pull it up. Once in place, Jamal leaned forward and mouthed at the sensitive skin right above his cock, right above, probably not coincidentally, where a woman’s clit would be.

“So fucking hot,” Jamal said, voice thick with desire and his cock starting to stir. Vince was able to glance over his shoulder at the clock, and it said 10:55. No time to play.

He took Jamal’s face in his hands before he could decide he would pay the late charge. “Can you help me into my dress?” he asked.

“Yes,” Jamal agreed with a drawn out hiss on the _s_. He held up the dress so Vince could step into it, then stood to pull it all the way up and rest it on his shoulders. Then he stepped behind Vince to zip it up. He brushed Vince’s hair aside to kiss the nape of his neck, a hand resting possessively over Vince’s abdomen.

“We don’t have time,” Vince warned him, watching the time tick away on the clock.

Jamal groaned, but didn’t argue. Vince didn’t blame him. The penalties for keeping him late were supposed to be considerable.

He walked over to the bed and searched around in the sheets till he found the chain and padlock—with the key still in it conveniently. He opened the clutch that was on the nightstand and dropped them both into it. Jamal startled him by appearing with the corset belt, but he helped him into it quickly, tightening it a Vince put the hair comb back in, which just left the shoes.

Vince paused by a full-length mirror to check his hair before he stepped into the heels. He had no time to do eyes, but he pulled out the lipstick in the clutch and added that touch. Sometimes even just a tiny bit was enough to sell the illusion.

Jamal stepped up behind him, and for a second, he could imagine what the world had seen when they saw the two of them together last night—the handsome, professional athlete and his model date. If they’d been somewhere more public, they were attractive enough to grace covers.

He glanced at the clock; time to go.

Vince breezed out of Jamal’s arms, thankfully the path to the door was pretty much a straight shot.

“Wait! Aurum!” Jamal called when Vince reached the door and paused to pull his coat on. He had pulled on some boxers, and he must have run to the kitchen, because he had the bag from last night’s take home desserts with him. “Take this with you,” he handed it over, brushing Vince’s drying bangs behind an ear before they fell forward. “When can I see you again?” Jamal asked.

Vince leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to Jamal’s lips. “You know you have to talk to Mr. Evermark about that,” he said. Normally this was the part where he flirted a little bit more, tried to entice another date out of him, but he didn’t like the way Jamal was looking at him. “Just promise me one thing,” he said instead.

“Anything.”

He managed not to sigh, but that response, that _anything_ was exactly the problem. “Don’t fall in love with the fantasy.”

Jamal’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

“This,” Vince said, reaching up to cup his cheek. “It’s not real, Jamal. It’s a fantasy you paid for. I had a good time, an honestly good time,” he admitted, and he probably shouldn’t have, but he didn’t want the man to feel like dirt. “But it’s not real. The person you took out last night? The person you’re looking at right now? He doesn’t exist. He’s a mask I wear for clients.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“You don’t even know my name, Jamal,” he said and let a little bit of his honest pity seep into his voice. “I had a good time, and I’d like to have another good time with you. But don’t fall in love with the lie. I’m a fantasy you pay for—nothing more, nothing less.”

“What if I want you to be more?” Jamal demanded, pulling Vince’s body tight against his.

 _And that was the problem, wasn’t it?_ “Find someone who isn’t a lie. It’s the least you deserve.”

* * *

Vince didn’t make it three steps into the apartment before Gareth was there, taking his coat to hang back up.

“How did it go?” Gareth asked, looking him over with a critical eye. “You look a little tired.”

“It was fine,” Vince said.

“Just fine?”

Vince sighed. “I’m very certain he was satisfied.”

Gareth reached between his legs, and it was only because he was still tired and still hadn’t had coffee that he pushed his hand away with a, “Don’t.”

Gareth stilled and stared at him, and Vince knew he made a mistake. “Did my kitten have a rough night?” Gareth asked in a sugary sweet voice that Vince had learned early on was never good for him. He reached between Vince’s legs again, and Vince didn’t dare move or protest this time. “Did your client use you well?”

“Yes, Master,” Vince said, bowing his head and lowering his eyes, staying still, even though he wanted to squirm at the way Gareth was stroking him. Being forced to cum so many times was rare—his ring usually limited it—and the emptied feeling it left him with tended to nuke his libido for a couple days while he recovered.

Not that his libido got much of a say in whether or not he got fucked—it just made a difference with how much he enjoyed it, and really, his enjoyment wasn’t a requirement.

“Out of the heels, kitten.”

He slipped them off, even as Gareth’s hand continued stroking him. Gareth grabbed his trapped length, then towed him by it to the kitchen, having him bend over the island. He moved the dress out of the way, then pulled the back of the underwear down just enough to bare his hole and the tip of his dick.

“What the fuck?” Gareth asked, pressing three fingers into him, then changing to four, which went in with almost no resistance; Gareth’s hand was nowhere as big as Jamal’s was. “What did he do, drive a truck up here?”

“His hand,” Vince said, feeling Gareth tuck his thumb and sink his whole fist inside. He gasped with it, because even though he had been very stretched, there was something about having someone’s fist inside him that made sense fly out of his head, and he relaxed onto the island.

“You love this, don’t you, kitten? Being filled like this? Feeling someone _possess_ you like this?”

He pulled his fist out and plunged it back in with each question, getting gasps from Vince. “Yes… Master.”

“Yes, what, kitten?”

“I love it,” he whimpered, arousal somehow stirring in his gut even if he had no prayer of getting hard.

“You love _what_ , exactly, kitten? Use your words.”

Vince whimpered as Gareth pushed particularly deep. “I love…” he gasped, because Gareth was rubbing his knuckles against his prostate, and _fuck_ he could not think around that.

“Words, kitten.”

“I love…” His gasp this time was almost a sob. “I love… your fist.”

“It isn’t just my fist, is it, kitten? You’re a slut when it comes to your ass being filled, aren’t you? I wonder what you’d do if I sealed your hole for a week and refused to let you put anything inside you?” He leaned over so he was murmuring right into Vince’s ear as he continued fisting him. “How desperate would you be?” He shoved in hard enough to make Vince keen and try to claw at the granite island uselessly. “What would you do to have this hungry hole filled then?” He thrust hard again, then opened his hand wide inside, just as Jamal had the night before, pressing down as if he could feel the hard stone through Vince’s skin. “Tell me, kitten. Would you like that? Having your hole empty for a whole week?”

Vince sobbed with the intensity of it. He couldn’t imagine it—didn’t want to imagine it. “No,” he cried. “No, please, Master.”

“You wouldn’t like that?” Gareth pretended to sound surprised. “You wouldn’t like to be empty?”

“ _No_ ,” he admitted, tears pouring down his face.

“No,” Gareth agreed, and his length pressed against Vince’s stretched hole. Vince had no idea when he’d opened his pants. “No, you would _not_ ,” he repeated. “Because you’re a slut who loves having his hole stretched, loves being filled, loves having a man’s hot cock”—he shifted his wrist up and pushed the head of his cock against Vince’s already strained entrance—“sink into him.” The head popped past his wrist and he groaned, deep. 

“Please, God, please, _Master_.” Vince had no idea if he was begging for Gareth to stop or for him to continue. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been _this_ stretched. It hurt, but at the same time, something inside craved more, wanted to feel Gareth’s whole member slide in next to his hand. The guard muscle strained, but inside? He loved the internal stretch, satisfying like an itch he didn’t know needed scratched.

“Submit, kitten,” Gareth commanded. “Your ass is so loose, I’m going to have to jack myself off in it to get any pressure.”

He sounded almost gleeful, and Vince relaxed even further, sinking deeper into that fuzzy place where only his Master mattered. The feeling of his Master taking himself in hand _inside_ of him was amazing. His Master was pleased.

“Such a slut,” Master ground out, cock sliding mostly out before thrusting back in hard.

“Master’s slut!” he said.

“Such a needy hole.”

Kitten pressed his cheek to the cool stone. “Kitten’s too needy, too greedy,” he whimpered.

“Tell me how much of a slut you are, kitten.”

“Such a _slut_ ,” Kitten whined. “Just fill a Kitten’s hole, and Kitten wants it. Wants a cock in its empty hole. Kitten loves being filled, needs to be filled. Greedy, greedy Kitten.”

Master grabbed Kitten’s cock, and Kitten had practically forgotten he even had one. Master’s balls slapped against the head, teasing it. “What about this, kitten? Does kitten like for this clit to be filled?”

“Yes, Master! Fill Kitten anywhere. Kitten loves it. Make Kitten take it! Stuff it, stretch it! If Kitten’s cunt is too loose, stretch Kitten’s clit till it can take Master’s cock.”

Master groaned. “Don’t give me ideas, kitten.”

“Sorry, Master. Kitten shouldn’t think.”

“That’s right, kitten. Leave the thinking to your Master.” He grunted and gave a couple final particularly violent thrusts before cumming.

Kitten whimpered when Master pulled out his cock and fist at the same time, stretching him _even more._ It was _so much_ , too much, and he sobbed with the intensity of it. He tried to clench his ass, but it barely seemed to respond, felt almost numb, and he wondered if he’d ever be tight again. Master stroked Kitten’s back to soothe him.

“Shh… kitten,” Master called. “My beautiful, amazing kitten.”

“Good Kitten?” Kitten asked. “Not ruined for Master?”

Master chuckled, that deeply satisfied sound. “The best kitten, and definitely not ruined.” Master assured. “My magnificent kitten will tighten right back up, and I look forward to helping you with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is officially the last complete chapter I have for Prepared, so there'll probably be some lag between updates going forward. Hope you enjoy. Comments and kudos are amazing things, really...


	13. Decorating

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm a dunce. Somehow I missed posting a chapter of Vince/Jamal. I went back and reposted it, so you may notice there's now chapter 11 Fistfulls Part 1 (which is the new chapter), and Chapter 12 Fistfulls Part 2, which I originally posted. Since I had to rearrange the chapter once I posted it, I honestly don't know how anyone subscribed received the update. If you're not subscribed, be aware--Chapter 11 is new, if you want to go back and read that. 
> 
> Onto the actual new stuff.

Gareth gave him a week off—a whole week off. Vince barely knew what to do with himself. He wasn’t allowed to cum or to play with himself, though Gareth had him call every night to help him work on tightening up again. Really, he was mostly back to normal after a day or so, but Gareth enjoyed watching him strengthen those internal muscles. He would have Vince put something long and thin (and wholly unsatisfying) in him, then made him hang things off of it—the challenge being to keep himself so tight despite the weight, that the things on the toy wouldn’t fall off.

By the time he went to Gareth’s again a week later, he radiated irritation. Vince hadn’t realized how used to getting fucked he’d gotten, but as Gareth predicted, having a week with nothing larger than a chopstick inside of him, never getting properly stretched, never getting anywhere close to getting off, had him agitated. He’d been snapping at Amelie for the last three days, on top of it.

So when he saw Gareth sitting in what Vince privately thought of as “his throne,” he barely stopped to step out of his shoes before making a beeline. He climbed into Gareth’s lap, kissing him hungrily, grinding down on him, going straight for unbuttoning his fly. He almost had him out when Gareth wound his hand into Vince’s hair and pulled back— _hard_.

“So eager, kitten,” he said, sounding amused. His free hand cupped Vince’s trapped erection, and he couldn’t help but push into it even though he knew damn well that he couldn’t get off from this. “I’d ask how your week has been, but it seems I have all the answer I need.”

“Dammit, just fuck me,” Vince demanded, and he never imagined those words would come out of his mouth because he hadn’t had enough sex.

Gareth laughed at that. “If I’d known it’d make you this hungry, I’d have made you abstain much sooner.” Vince glared, and Gareth’s smirk grew. “Being deprived gives you an edge, kitten.” He tightened the hand in Vince’s hair, making it hurt a little. “Unfortunately for you, I have a client for you tonight, so you’re going to have to keep waiting a bit longer.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Vince said with feeling.

“Strip and array, kitten.” He released Vince.

He managed not to bitch as he stripped efficiently. After all, if he wasn’t going to get fucked, no reason to make it good. Even so, he was half hard by the time he arrayed. Gareth chuckled and nudged his dick with his foot, pushing Vince’s thighs wider. “Look how far you’ve come, kitten.” He reached down to lift Vince’s chin, making him stretch up into the motion. “You’ve given me a problem, kitten. You need to fix it.” He pulled Vince forward, forcing him to crawl until his face was buried between Gareth’s legs. Vince got the point and pulled Gareth’s hardening length out. “Take me deep, kitten, all the way down in your throat.”

Vince licked him to get him wet and hopefully harder.

“Now, kitten. Quit stalling.”

 _Fuck_. It was hard to deepthroat a dick that wasn’t all the way hard. He was really good at deepthroating, but something about a soft dick seemed to hit his gag reflex the wrong way. Gareth, the bastard, knew it too. He wanted to gag Vince on his dick.

“Kitten.”

No more stalling. That tone was pure warning, so he took a deep breath and leaned forward, inching his way down, feeling the way Gareth’s length filled his mouth, then bumped the back of his throat. He gagged slightly, but Gareth’s hand found its way to his hair, refusing to let him back off.

“Don’t throw up on me, kitten.”

Vince stayed where he was for a moment, breathing through his nose, the soft head of Gareth’s cock almost tickling his gag reflex. Fuck it—he just had to get past it. When he started moving forward this time, Gareth used his hand to guide him, letting Vince know there would be no backing off. Last time he pushed when Gareth used that tone, he’d been rented to a sadist who had used an electric wand and was _seriously_ turned on by making him cry and scream. The memory of that terrible session was enough to redouble his efforts to get Gareth’s still hardening member into his throat.

He gave a mental sigh of relief when he nosed Gareth’s pubic hair. He moved to pull back so he could begin giving the blow job, but Gareth’s hand stayed tight on the back of his head.

“No, kitten. I want you to milk me till I cum, just using that pretty throat of yours.” He used his other hand to reach down and stroke Vince’s throat from the outside as he said that, nearly making Vince upchuck as it pressed Gareth’s cock up and against his gag reflex again.

Vince took small, shallow breaths through his nose—about all he could do with his throat stuffed with Gareth’s not-small member, then began to try to swallow around him. He could only use his tongue so much without setting off the gag reflex again, so he mostly used the same mechanics he would while taking a long drink—a deep swallow, small breath through the nose, another deep swallow. He knew it was working when Gareth groaned and grew harder. Feeling him get hard and deeper in his throat without moving was strange, but Gareth stroked his hair, and said, “Good, kitten, Such a good, good kitten. Doing so good for me.”

Vince kept it up, concentrating on making his throat tighter with each swallow until it ached to keep doing it. Finally, Gareth pushed his head tight to his crotch and spilled down Vince’s throat. Stars started to dance before his eyes before Gareth released him. He coughed as his airway cleared, letting him get the first full, deep breaths in he didn’t know how long. He knelt, holding his sore throat and counting his breaths until his breathing returned to normal.

“Such a good kitten.”

He hated that the praise made a little part of him perk up and want to please Gareth more when he said stupid shit like that.

“Up over my lap, kitten.”

Vince took another deep breath, then got up. His knees cracked when he did, so he must have been kneeling for a while. He laid himself over Gareth’s lap and crossed his arms across the small of his back automatically. Gareth stroked his ass for a minute before dipping his finger to rub against Vince’s hole.

“Let’s see how tight you are, kitten.” He rubbed all around Vince’s hole, teasing and making him hard enough to whimper. “Tighten up, kitten. Don’t let me in,” he said. Vince tightened his ass as much as he could, and Gareth pressed his finger against his hole. It didn’t give, and he backed off, which Vince took as tacit permission to stop clenching. “So good. Again, kitten. Keep me out.” This time, Gareth pressed harder, harder than Vince could counteract, and the tip of his finger breached. Once the tip was in, Vince couldn’t keep any additional length out. “Keep gripping me as tight as you can, kitten, even if you couldn’t keep me out. Keep out a second finger.”

He pulled his hand back and Vince tried. By the end of the week, he’d been able to keep one pound of weight hanging off a thin vibrator straight for almost a minute, but a pound of weight wasn’t much compared to Gareth’s relentless pressure. When the tip of the second finger breached, Vince’s heart sank. Twice he’d failed his Master at such a simple thing. Disgust for his own uselessness whirled in his stomach.

“Good, kitten,” Gareth praised, pulling his fingers out, which derailed Vince’s thoughts. How on earth was that _good_? He had let two fingers in. “You’re tight as a virgin again, which is perfect for tonight’s client.”

“Really?” he asked, hating himself for needing the reassurance, but disgust still churning in his stomach wouldn’t back down.

“Yes, really, kitten. Your exercises have been quite a success, though…” Vince could hear him fiddling with something on the side table. After a minute, something cool and lubed and thinner than most straws pressed into him with barely any resistance. “There is a line on this chopstick,” Gareth said, running his finger around Vince’s hole. “I want you to make sure this chopstick stays _exactly_ where it is. Don’t let it slip out of you even a little.”

Vince hung his head and groaned. Clenching for so long was _hard_ , and the chopstick was far too thin to give him any real pleasure.

“Up, kitten,” Gareth said, a chuckle in his voice. When Vince stood up, Gareth took his mostly hard dick in his hand and rubbed his thumb over the head, teasing Vince when he knew he couldn’t cum. “Dripping so easily after a week, aren’t you, kitten?”

There was nothing he could do but stand there and try not to let the chopstick slip out of him while Gareth stroked him to full hardness. With his free hand, he opened the drawer on the side table and pulled out a tray. At first glance, it looked like a pile of gold jewelry, but Vince whimpered when he saw a specific item. The long, silver sound has a thick bullet on the end, followed by evenly spaced, smaller beads, followed by a longer solid section, more beads, and then it narrowed where the ring was attached. The silver seems to taunt him on its bed of gold.

“Yes, kitten. You’re so wet, I don’t even need to lube you up for this.” Gareth picked up the sound and pressed the large bullet-shaped end to the head of Vince’s cock. He only flicked a glance up at Vince before he began to press it in, and Vince gasped against it. His toes curled in the carpet as he struggled to stay still as Gareth kept a slow, even pace, pushing the plug in until it was buried up to the ring. Vince’s head spun with the penetration. Something about having his dick fucked always made him lightheaded.

When Gareth let go of his dick, the sound was heavy enough to pull his erection down, and it made Vince gasp and arch as the bullet rubbed at his prostate from inside. Gareth batted at his cock, not hard enough to hurt even a little, but the movement shifted the plug and teased his prostate until Vince was dizzy with it. Just when Vince wondered if he’d actually fall over, Gareth took his dick in hand again, and rubbed the underside of it, as if counting every bead on it.

“ _Master!_ ”

“Relax, kitten.” He slid the ring over Vince’s cockhead, effectively locking it in place. He reached back into the tray and pulled out two delicate gold chains. He snapped the top of one to Vince’s cock ring, then the other end to the plug ring, then repeated the actions with the other one on the other side of his dick. That could not be a good sign. Next came a pair of ornate golden chandelier earrings. They were large, elaborate pieces with delicate dangling chains and beads, and they looked heavy in Gareth’s hand, which meant they were probably real gold. Instead of putting them in Vince’s ears, however, he grab’s Vince’s cock and slides the thin hook of the first one between the plug ring and his cock, hanging it from Vince’s dick.

It _was_ heavy, heavy enough to force his dick to point down to the floor, which also forced the sound to press up against his prostate. Vince went up on his toes in reaction, wanting to pull away because that teasing pressure was both so good and too much, and he couldn’t decide if he wanted to press into it or if he needed it to stop, but it was rapidly becoming the only thought in his brain. 

“So beautiful, kitten. Don't forget the chopstick. Now the other one,” Gareth said, then hung the other off the other side of his dick, and if his cock had been rising at all against the weight, it wasn’t anymore. The heavy earrings forced it to point to the floor, and Vince could already tell that every step would be torture, between the weight of them swaying, pulling on his dick, forcing the sound into his prostate, to even the tease of the beads and chains tickling his thighs. The weight of it put particular pressure on his cock ring, and Vince whined.

Gareth grabbed a hip and pulled him closer before reaching up to run his thumb over a nipple even as his mouth covered the other one. It was too much, and Vince yelled as he orgasmed. Shudders wrack his body, and if it weren’t for Gareth’s hands on him, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have fallen. As it was, he had to cling to Gareth’s shoulders and lock his knees to stay even vaguely upright. Tiny aftershocks kept running through him as his cock swayed with the weights, manipulating the sound inside of him.

“So beautiful when you cum, kitten,” Gareth said in a soothing, almost worshipful voice as he brushed Vince’s hair back. “Stand back up for me, kitten. So good.”

Vince wasn’t sure his legs would hold him, but he could feel that fuzzy place in his head starting to take over. Giving in to it, letting the world fade away except for Master’s voice was easy, and it felt _good_. It felt _right_. Pleasing Master was the most important thing, so he stood upright, even though doing so made him gasp and whimper again.

“So very good, kitten,” Master praised. His hands reached up again to play with Kitten’s nipples, and Kitten whimpered, pushing his chest out so Master could do what he would. It made his cock sway, made the sound tease him, but Master wanted his nipples. Master twisted and pinched them until Kitten orgasmed from it again. “There we go, such a good kitten.” A final twist made Kitten shudder, and all he could process were the feelings and _Master_.

Master reached into the tray again, pulled out pretty and ornate nipple clamps that looked like they probably matched the ones hanging from Kitten’s dick. Kitten mewled in his throat as they were attached to his nipples, pinching and heavy enough to be very aware of them. The combination of the stimulation in his nipples, dick, and prostate had him trapped in a cycle of competing sensations. He completely missed Master hanging additional ornaments from his guiche piercing until he felt their weight.

“So good for me, kitten. So very, very good. Keep still.”

Kitten took shallower breaths, trying to still his chest and cock as Master took more items from the tray. Golden chains went around his waist, bracelets and armbands were pushed up his arms. Rings with chains connecting to a bracelet went on one hand, other rings went on the other hand. More ornaments were placed tight around thighs, looser around ankles, and even toe rings were added. Shifting to one foot at a time for the leg ornaments nearly undid Kitten, but Master’s voice calmed him, assured Kitten that he could _do_ this. Kitten would make Master proud.

Master finally stood up, looped several more ornaments around Kitten’s neck. One of which had a chain that hung down between his pecs, tickling the top of Kitten’s belly. Big chandelier earrings were placed in each ear, and their weight was noticeable, but they didn’t hurt. The tassels hanging from them tickled Kitten’s shoulders. The final piece was an intricate gold lattice collar that Master held up for Kitten to inspect before he placed it around Kitten’s neck.

“One last thing, kitten.” Master said. He pulled out a liquid eyeliner, and Kitten closed and relaxed his eyes obligingly. Master’s hand was sure and steady. “Keep your eyes closed, Kitten,” Master commanded, taking Kitten’s hands, leading him. Kitten follows without hesitation, his breath hitching at nearly every step, but he couldn’t stop and give into the sensations—he had to follow his Master.

Master let go of his hands, and Kitten stayed where he was, feeling as Master stepped behind him.

“Okay, kitten. Open your eyes.”

This time, when Kitten gasped, it was because of what he saw, not what he felt. All the gold made his skin look even more radiant. The earrings practically vanished into his hair until Master pushed his hair behind an ear. He looked like he should be in some harem story.

“See how beautiful you are, kitten? Do you know how proud I am that you are mine?” Master’s hands skimmed from his thighs to his stomach and up, as if he couldn’t _not_ touch Kitten. In the mirror, Master’s eyes were deep wells of black, and Kitten leaned back into him. “Such a beautiful kitten.”

“Master’s,” Kitten said.

Master’s hand came around, cradled Kitten’s jaw and lifted it to stare into Kitten’s eyes. “Mine,” he agreed, voice thick and rough. He leaned down and claimed Kitten’s mouth, as he should, and Kitten forgot about everything but the feel of his Master behind him, and the way their mouths fit together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos (if deserved) are love. :)


	14. A Tango

Taking his kitten out in public when he was so deep in subspace had inherent dangers. It was also one of the single fucking hottest things Gareth thought he had ever done. The small fortune of gold jewelry his kitten is wore was almost entirely hidden under a thick black trench that was closed all the way to his chin. The knee-high boots disappear beneath it, and the earrings were almost the color of his hair so they practically vanish into it.

It was rush hour, so the bus was crammed, jostling his kitten between the people and the natural jerkiness of the bus, making him gasp and mewl as the jewelry swung underneath the long coat and the chopstick vibe moved within him. Gareth pulled him tight to his body, mostly so that he could cling to Gareth and muffle his sounds in Gareth’s own thick coat.

His kitten is still deep in subspace, deep enough that Gareth could probably command him to drop his coat right then and there, and his kitten would do it. It was tempting to bend him over a seat and fuck him, or have him sit in Gareth’s lap and fuck him through the ride. Gareth made a mental note to see if he could do just that some time. His kitten had a legitimate appointment, so he wasn’t able to do it now, but he filed the idea away for future perusal.

When they get off at their stop, his kitten was trembling visibly. Gareth used the unsteadiness as an excuse to loop an arm around his kitten’s waist and let the kitten lean on him. He didn’t slow his pace to make it easier though.

If the client’s apartment wasn’t on the thirtieth floor, Gareth would relish making his kitten climb the stairs in his current state. Despite the blow job he was given earlier, Gareth’s thick winter coat was the only thing keeping him from embarrassing himself with how turned on he was. It really was a shame that it wasn’t his turn to play with the kitten tonight.

Then again, at least he’d get to stay for this one.

He had his kitten remove his gloves in the elevator. Even without taking the stairs, by the time they were at the door, his kitten had definitely orgasmed at least once more. Gareth stroked his side through the trench, but the cold likely barely registered among the other stimulation.

The door to the apartment was thrown open before Gareth had a chance to knock, though it didn’t surprise him. He knew very well exactly how much this client was looking forward to having their Aurum for an evening.

“Gareth!” he was greeted by Bhintuna Maharjan before Bhintu’s eyes locked on his kitten. “ _Oh_ ,” he said with a reverent kind of hush. “Come in, come in. I cannot wait to unwrap my present!”

Bhintu was on the cusp of forty, but between his stature and a naturally ageless face, he easily passed for midtwenties. He had emigrated from Nepal more than twenty-five years ago, and he was a _highly_ preferred customer due to his inventions, not to mention being a personal friend of the actual Mr. Evermark.

He ushered them in to his kitchen, where he had clearly been seated before they arrived. “Do you need anything Gareth? Refreshments? Snacks?” Bhintu asked, but his eyes were glued to the kitten.

Gareth smiled. “We are here for your service, not to be served.” He stepped behind his kitten, bracing a hand low on his stomach before nuzzling his kitten’s neck, making him sag against Gareth, lean his head back, and gasp.

Bhintu licked his lips and wrung his hands as if he wanted to touch but wasn’t sure he was allowed.

“Why don’t you take his boots off?” Gareth suggested, knowing Bhintu’s tastes well.

The smaller man swallowed but barely hesitated before going to his knees before the kitten. He didn’t lift the coat, instead sliding his hands up under it to find the zipper on the knee-high boots, lowering the first one slowly as he stared up at the kitten. When it was all the way down, Gareth murmured, “Step out, kitten,” into his ear, and the kitten did as commanded, gasping softly from the way the movement made things shift. Bhintu quickly set the boot aside before sighing and running a hand over the kitten’s calf.

“You have him shaved,” he said. His voice shook with what Gareth knew to be arousal, and Bhintu hadn’t even seen the best part yet.

“Mostly,” Gareth agreed, meeting Bhintu’s eyes down the length of the kitten’s body. Bhintu’s eyes were almost black normally, but they seemed larger and deeper when he was aroused.

He went to work on the other boot, repeating his process. This time when the kitten stepped out of it, Bhintu ran his hands up the back of both calves, up under the coat, stopping at the back of the thighs. “So smooth,” he said approvingly.

“Nothing but the best for you,” Gareth assured. “Would you like to open the rest of your present? Or have it open itself for you?”

Bhintu got to his feet with enviable grace for a man who was older than Gareth. He reached for the buttons at the kitten’s throat and undid them, then unzipped the coat in one long motion before standing back up. His eyes lingered on the sliver of bared skin for a moment before he pushed the coat off the kitten’s shoulder’s.

Gareth stepped away quickly enough that the coat dropped to the floor, leaving the kitten clothed in only the jewelry. Bhintu gasped aloud, not hesitating to step forward and run his hands over the insides of the kitten’s thighs before palming his abs, finally reaching up to tug on the nipple clamps. Kitten _whined_ at the last, and Bhintu groaned softly himself.

He took kitten’s length in his hand, feeling the weight of the earrings and jewelry as he lifted it. Kitten whimpered again as Bhintu’s sure hands ran over his length, feeling the sound inside, feeling how deep it went, where it entered into his body. He played with the kitten’s cock, lifting it higher, pumping it like a lever, reveling in the kitten’s reactions before finally releasing it. When he let it go, he let the full weight of the earrings pull it down, and the violent shift of the sound had the kitten keening, back arching.

“Did he just cum?” Bhintu asked, stroking the flat stomach like a pet.

Gareth hummed in confirmation. “Our Aurum is quite susceptible to dry orgasms,” he confirmed.

A shudder—of delight or arousal, Gareth wasn’t sure—ran through Bhintu at the information. “What a delightful specimen,” he said. “I heard he does yoga?”

“He does.”

“Have him bend over and grab his ankles—legs completely straight.”

The kitten gasped against him, but Gareth chuckled. “You heard him, kitten. Bend over and take your ankles. I know you can do this.”

The kitten gave a small nod, then stood up straight for a moment before planting his feet and leaning down.

Bhintu ran a hand down the center of his spine. “How marvelous,” he said, his tone not dissimilar from a child on Christmas morning. His hand moved straight into the kitten’s cleft, finding the chopstick. Gareth glanced over and noticed a good two inches had slid out. He’d have to think of some appropriate punishment later. Bhintu made a pleased noise and removed the thin toy, setting it aside on the island absently. He then stepped around the kitten so he could admire his ass, then pried the kitten’s cheeks wide, getting a good look at the hole. “What a very pretty hole,” he said, running a finger over it, watching the way it reacted intently. He pressed a thin finger in all the way, then took a moment to feel around. The kitten whimpered and swayed since he wasn’t really held in place. Gareth stepped in front of him and put a hand on his back to steady him.

“Hold your position, kitten,” he said, a hint of warning in his voice.

He glanced up as Bhintu chuckled. “He’s exceptional,” he said, beginning to thrust the finger in and out. “So very tight, yet yielding. He’s been modified?”

“He has a trigger, a micrograte, and is sensitized with your solution,” Gareth confirmed. All of those processes and procedures had been envisioned then made real by Bhintu’s work. He had a micrograte of his own, developed because of an intense distaste for bodily waste, as well as having treated himself multiple times with the sensitizing solution.

“Just once with the solution?” Bhintu asked.

“Just once,” Gareth confirmed. “He seemed to have been quite sensitive to begin with. Additional treatments didn’t seem necessary.”

Bhintu hummed thoughtfully, pulling his finger out. “Have you considered the glands for self-lubrication?” he asked, and even though his eyes were still heated, the tone was academic.

“We have not,” Gareth admitted. The procedure to insert self-lubricating glands was a genuine surgery. As nice as it might be, Gareth was unwilling to risk his kitten being down for so long, and it didn’t have the sterling record that Bhintu’s other procedures did. In Gareth’s opinion, it was still very much a work-in-progress, though the success rate was currently hovering around 60%, it was far too low for Gareth’s liking. The fact that Bhintu hadn’t undergone it himself yet was evidence enough for Gareth that it wasn’t where it should be.

Sighing as though he knew where Gareth’s thoughts were, Bhintu stepped over to the island to pick up a bowl of what appeared to be little glass beads. They weren’t much larger than normal marbles, but they were Bhintu’s, so Gareth was sure there was a catch. Sure enough, Bhintu picked one up and held it to the light, rolling it between his fingers. The light refracted strangely inside it. “What you’re here for today. A new test,” he said with a mischievous grin.

Gareth grinned. “How many do you recommend?” he asked.

Bhintu rolled a bead between his fingers. “I’d say five to start.”

“Well, then,” Gareth said, meeting Bhintu’s eyes. “What are you waiting for?”

Bhintu grinned in reply. He pressed the bead to the kitten’s hole and pressed it in, pushing it in deep with his finger.

“How’s that feel, kitten?” Gareth asked, petting his lower back.

“Fine, Master.”

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No, Master.”

“Good.” He looked back up to nod and approve the next bead. Bhintu picked it up and slipped it in, pushing it as deep. Kitten shuddered under Gareth’s hand. “Next.” The next bead was inserted, then the next. When the last was pushed in, kitten whimpered. Gareth rubbed his kitten’s back. “Okay, kitten. You can stand up, slowly.”

Kitten slowly stood, groaning as the beads shifted inside. The door of apartment opened and Antony, Bhintu’s partner, came in. Bhintu danced over to him, leaning up for a kiss. Anthony leaned down to give it. “Good evening, darling. What do we have here?”

“Didn’t I tell you Gareth was bringing over Aurum to test my new toy?”

“I don’t believe you did,” Antony said, eyes glued to the kitten. He set down his suitcase on the island than made a slow circle around the kitten, not touching but his gaze hot enough to set fire. After a full circuit, he looked up at Gareth and extended his hand. “What an exquisite create you have in your stable, Gareth,” he complimented, a hint of a British accent still flavoring his voice.

“Thank you,” Gareth said, smiling. “I can admit, he is my favorite.”

“May I?” Antony asked, motioning toward his kitten.

Gareth held out his hand toward the kitten. “Be my guest.”

Antony walked back around the kitten with deliberate steps, stopping when he stood behind him. He took both of the kitten’s ass checks in his hands, gripping them firmly and making the kitten rise up onto his toes and gasp. “Beautiful ass.” He could tell when Antony pushed a finger into the kitten from the way he sighed and arched. “Unexpectedly tight.” His free hand reached around the kitten to take his hard length and stroking it. The kitten gasped and arched, leaning back into Antony from the dual stimulation.

“Oh, baby,” Bhintu breathed, watching them with hunger.

“Does it turn you on to watch me handle him, darling?” Antony asked.

He must have found the kitten’s prostate, because he moaned and hitched his hips. Bhintu moaned in response. “God, baby, you know it does.”

Antony released the kitten’s length, hand moving up to stroke the flat of his stomach, and his other hand guided one of the kitten’s arms up to hook over Antony’s neck.

“ _Oh_ ,” Bhintu sighed. “Gareth, can I please take pictures of them?” he asked.

That usually wasn’t allowed, but Bhintu was a personal friend of Gareth’s boss. Gareth inclined his head and smiled. “Only if I can have copies.”

Bhintu clapped in delight. “Stay like that, darling. I’ll be right back!” he assured, then walked out of the room at a pace just shy of a jog. Antony chuckled softly and continued to stroke the kitten’s stomach, always stopping just before he would take that decorated cock into his hand. When Bhintu came back a minute later, he not only had an expensive and professional-looking camera in hand, he had a pair of gold, strappy, kitten heels.

“I believe these will fit him,” he said, holding up the heels as he sat the camera on the island.

“Such a good idea, pet,” Antony praised, and Bhintu glowed with it. “Come, put them on him.”

He quickly went over to them and knelt again at the kitten’s feet. “He does know how to walk in heels, I assume?” he asked over his shoulder as he guided the kitten’s first foot into the straps. They buckled around the ankle, and Gareth could see Bhintu caress the foot and leg like they were a cock.

“Lift your leg, Aurum,” Antony instructed. “Press your foot to my Bhintu’s groin. Gently,” he cautioned as the kitten moved the heeled foot to obey. Automatically spreading his legs wider to give the kitten full access, Bhintu’s head fell back and he moaned. “He loves your feet,” Antony murmured in the kitten’s ear, even as he began to stroke the kitten’s heavy cock in time with the way the kitten eased then increased the pressure on Bhintu’s trapped dick. “He has a particular weakness for pretty boys in heels, don’t you, my love?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Bhintu agreed, voice gone low with need, his hips hitching.

“That’s good, Aurum. It’s time to give Bhintu your other foot.” The kitten did, balancing on the heel, and Bhintu whined at the loss, but he didn’t waste time in putting on the other heel. “If he could, he’d fuck himself on your foot,” Antony said. “He loves to fellate feet like a cock whore loves a cock in his throat.” As he spoke, Bhintu bent low over the kitten’s foot, kissing and licking the skin between the straps. “Hmm, I see footplay is not a kink of yours.”

“No,” Gareth confirmed. “Our Aurum has relatively few actual kinks for someone so… _receptive._ ”

“Really?” Antony asked, sounding intrigued.

“He’s a natural slave, so he’ll readily do nearly anything to please his master, even if he doesn’t particularly enjoy the act itself. His master’s enjoyment is enough, and he drops into subspace like a dream.” Gareth paused because this was more information than he usually gave clients. Most clients didn’t care if the kitten had kinks or if their kinks aligned, and his kitten’s need to please overcame most kink mismatches. But this was Bhintu and Antony. “He does have a genuine praise kink, not that that’s surprising in a natural slave. Otherwise, he loves to be penetrated,” Gareth heard his own voice drop on the last.

“Is that true?” Antony asked the kitten. “Do you love to be filled?”

“Yes, sir,” the kitten answered, an almost airy quality to his voice.

“What’s better? Toys or a man’s cock?” He thrust against the kitten’s ass as he asked.

“A man’s cock, sir.”

“So you love to be _fucked_?” Antony thrust again.

“Yes, sir.”

Bhintu knelt up slightly and took the head of the kitten’s cock into his mouth. The kitten whined and writhed at the sensation, but Antony kept his grip.

“That’s enough, love. I thought you wanted pictures?”

Releasing the kitten on command, Bhintu got back to his feet, though a hand caressed up the length of one of the kitten’s legs as he stood. “Yes, _sir_ ,” he said with a leer, then went over to pick up the camera. “We should go to the great room. The windows and lighting are spectacular. And the sun is setting…” Gareth could see Bhintu’s trapped cock twitch through the thin fabric of his pants. “You would be so beautiful together.”

“Well, then, Aurum, you heard him.” Antony took the kitten’s arm from behind his head and did some complicated little ballroom spin. The kitten’s classes were paying off because he flowed through the motions like a pro, keeping his balance in the heels. Gareth heard Bhintu’s soft whine, and when he glanced over again, Bhintu was pressing a palm to his crotch. “You have him trained in ballroom?” Antony asked Gareth as Bhintu snapped several quick pictures.

“There is a particular grace that it instills,” he said, waving it off.

“Evermark is nothing but thorough,” Antony replied, amusement coloring his voice. He pulled the kitten in close to him and stroked up his bare side until he could tug at a nipple clamp. The jewelry jingled softly with every movement the kitten made, and his soft gasp added to the subtle music. “That’s why his whores are the best.” His hand continued up until he had tipped the kitten’s head back and bared the full length of his throat. If he were expecting to get a reaction out of the kitten from calling him a whore, he was going to be disappointed. He nuzzled the length of throat, then added, “His whores live to be fucked.”

Gareth didn’t disagree, though it wasn’t totally true. They did put a lot of effort into training kink into their whores so they could be sent to more discerning clientele.

Antony dropped his hand to stroke low on the kitten’s abdomen again, pressing hard, getting a soft whine in response, then settling his hand on the kitten’s waist. “Well, let’s not waste our daylight, shall we?” He held out his free hand, indicating Gareth to proceed him.

Gareth did, knowing the floor plan, finding an overstuffed white leather chair to situate himself in. He preferred to be the one playing, but he certainly could appreciate a good show.

The picture window was westward facing, the perfect backdrop for the setting sun. Bhintu’s camera clicked as he took pictures of Antony and the kitten moving together. Simply walking was enough to make the kitten orgasm again, and Gareth grew harder seeing the fine tremble in his limbs, the stunning blush in his cheeks. The kitten in ecstasy was a masterpiece.

Antony escorted him to in front of the picture window, and Gareth heard Bhintu’s soft gasp again at the picture they made. In the heels, Antony had maybe a half-inch of height on the kitten, but they were striking together.

“Do you know how to tango?” he asked softly enough that if the apartment had been anything more than silent, Gareth wouldn’t have heard it.

“A little, sir,” the kitten replied, leaning his head back, bearing his throat again.

Bhintu took another picture, then pulled out his phone.

“Can you follow my lead?” he asked.

“I’ll do my best, sir.”

Antony chuckled as the music came up, low, sultry, heavy on the violin and accompanied by the piano and maybe even an accordion. “Forget about your pleasure, Aurum. I want you to dance with me. I want your body to be art. Can you do that for me?”

“I’ll try, sir.”

Shifting his grip, Antony spun the kitten to face him. “Do better than try, Aurum. You are my partner for this dance. Forget about everything other than _me_. Submit to _me_. Your pleasure means nothing. You do not feel the weight of the jewelry on you, the slide of the toys within you. All you feel is my hands, guiding you.” As he spoke, he led the kitten into starting forms, coaxing the kitten to mirror him, to move with him, to respond to him. “You wear a golden skirt that tickles your legs as we dance, a tasseled top.” He pressed a leg between the kitten’s, encouraging him to lift a knee and lean into Antony. Antony caressed his ass, following the leg until he held beneath the knee. The kitten gasped, but Gareth thought it was as much from Antony’s touch as from stimulation of his thigh.

“For this dance, I am your lover,” Antony continued as they moved into other steps, the kitten keeping up with him faultlessly, so deep in subspace he was unable to do any less. “Your every touch is an invitation, every movement a seduction.”

They paused and the kitten glanced up through his lashes, then ran one foot up the outside of Antony’s leg in a blatant tease before twining their legs and kicking up between them. It led to them trading the kicks, which must have been quite precarious with all the jewelry hanging from the kitten’s precious parts. He couldn’t completely ignore the sensations, and gasped and threw his head back. Bhintu moved around them as they moved, seeking the perfect light, the perfect angles. They were utterly mesmerizing, and it was difficult to believe the dance hadn’t been choreographed in advance.

They continued, bodies usually pressed close, legs moving in beautiful sync, Antony’s soft encouragement and direction became lost in the music. That the kitten was nude could have been forgotten, the jewelry draped on him as if a dress. As the dance went on, Gareth noticed the kitten struggling more, gasping louder, whining, trembling, even clinging to Antony. Antony took it in stride, simply continuing on as if the kitten falling apart were expected. During a particular lunge, Antony coaxed the kitten into a full split, balancing on the toes of one foot while Antony supported the other leg, straightened, over his shoulder. The kitten’s back arched and Gareth was sure he had cum again, head thrown back, the distinct cry of completion torn from his throat. Antony nuzzled the calf by his face, then eased the leg down, careful to support the oversensitized kitten in his arms.

And still they continued to dance. The kitten became clumsier, less coordinated, Antony having to manhandle him through the steps more, but it feel strangely intentional, as if the dance were meant to make the kitten loose control, as if it were meant to ratchet the need up so high that the kitten could only be dragged along by it. The way Antony handled him became less appropriate, less a show, and more deliberate. They traded another round of leg kicks, the kitten’s gasps and whines and moans adding to the music, then he did something complicated that ended with Antony supporting the kitten by the neck, his whole torso stretched out, nearly levitating. The arch of his back and the angle of the light allowed Gareth to see five small, raised bumps on the kitten’s abdomen, and his cock throbbed as he realized what was happening.

The marbles that Bhintu was testing weren’t just marbles—they could apparently expand. The kitten was going through this dance with toys that were growing within him, stretching him from the inside out, the energetic movements no doubt affecting shifting them and driving the kitten’s need ever higher as he fell deeper into subspace.

Antony ran his hand down the length of the kitten’s torso, pressing particularly on the balls inside of him, getting a cry in return. He shifted, lifting the kitten back up, and the kitten nearly collapsed in his arms.

“Now, now,” Gareth heard Antony say as he returned the kitten to a beginning pose. “You’ve done so well. Stay with me. We’re not done yet.”

The praise straightened the kitten’s back and probably his resolve, and he moved into the next steps a little easier. Sweat glistened on his skin, making him gleam even more in the setting light, as if he were the sunset made flesh.

The music never faltered, and Antony continued to push the kitten, particularly encouraging high kicks, leg lifts, and splits until another orgasm was wrung from him. Antony didn’t let him off the hook, instead linking the kitten’s arms around his neck, taking the kitten’s knees in his hands, and spinning, with the kitten facing away from him. When he stopped, he shifted the kitten until he slithered down Antony’s leg, ending in a kneeling puddle at Antony’s feet just as the music came to an end.

For several moments, the only sounds in the room were Antony and the kitten’s gasps and the shutter of Bhintu’s camera. Antony then held a hand out to the kitten, who took it and allowed himself to be pulled back up to his feet, though he leaned heavily into Antony when he did.

“ _Bravo_!” Bhintu cheered as Antony escorted the kitten over to the matching white leather sofa. He sat first and spread his legs, and obvious invitation for the kitten to sit between them. The kitten did, moaning quietly. Antony’s hands quickly took possession again, touch anywhere he pleased, lifting the kitten’s legs onto the couch, regardless of the damage the heels might do, spreading him wide, exposing his hole.

“Isn’t he beautiful?” Antony asked, a hand shifting the kitten’s weighed-down cock, tossing the jewelry over a thigh to keep it out of the way as his other hand splayed open the kitten’s ass, bearing his hole. “Grab the top of the couch, Aurum. You are the toy. You don’t get to touch.”

The kitten keened as he did as instructed, laying his head back against Antony’s shoulder. Antony pressed down on the bumps on his stomach, and got a whine in return, hips hitching unconsciously.

“He likes that,” Bhintu said, sounding a little breathy himself. “Is one of those balls resting on your prostate, Aurum?”

Antony pressed again, and the kitten moaned before replying with, “Yes, sir.”

“Hm?” Antony hummed as if curious, then pressed harder. “I wonder, Aurum, can I make you cum like this?” He began a pattern of rapidly pushing and releasing. Gareth noticed that the kitten’s hole began to expand, and he could see something inside.

“How big do those balls get?” he asked idly.

“These can get to about softball size,” Bhintu said, clearly pleased. “They’re not quite there yet, but getting close.” He knelt in front of the kitten, setting the camera aside and petted his stomach. “How do they feel, Aurum? How full do you feel?”

The kitten whined. “So full,” he said, trying to hide his face in his bicep. Antony didn’t let him, lifting his chin.

“You have to give them back to Bhintu, Aurum,” he said it like he was chiding, and the kitten closed his eyes, a sob escaping him.

“I can’t.”

“Look at you being a pessimist. You haven’t even tried yet.”

“ _Please_ , sir.”

“Now, kitten,” Gareth interrupted. “You have to give the balls back.”

The kitten took another quivering breath, a tear escaping his eye, but he relaxed at the command. “Yes, Master.”

“All right, Aurum,” Bhintu said, soothing and coaxing at once. “Give me the first one. I can already see it. I know you want to give it back.”

So began the process of retrieving the balls from the kitten. They were too large and too separate to give easily one after another, and it took time and effort for the kitten to deliver each ball. After the first one, he was tired and trying his best to hold back tears. By the time the third one had been retrieved, he was openly sobbing, obviously aching and exhausted. Even so, between Antony, Bhintu, and Gareth, they encouraged him on until the final ball had been retrieved. By then, he was incoherent and near hyperventilating.

Antony soothed him, stroking skin everywhere, raining murmured but coherent praise on him as Bhintu gently removed all the heaviest and most restricting jewelry. Just removing the nipple clamps threw the kitten into an orgasm.

“You’ve been so good, Aurum,” Antony repeated. “Do you need to be filled, beautiful?” he asked as Bhintu removed the urethral plug, setting it aside.

“He has a trigger,” Bhintu confirmed.

“He’s been so lovely, so good, I think he deserves a reward, don’t you, baby?”

“Oh, yes,” Bhintu agreed, nodding emphatically.

“Lean forward onto Bhintu, Aurum,” Antony instructed, reaching into his suit pocket.

“He’s likely to go off as soon as you’re inside of him,” Gareth warned.

Antony shifted the kitten like a ragdoll so he could take out his cock and slick it up. “Bhintu will help me with that, won’t you, darling?”

“Yes, sir!” Bhintu said brightly, eyes bright and eager.

They worked together to raise the kitten and seat him, Bhintu keeping a grip on the kitten’s desperate-looking cock to keep him from cumming on the spot. Gareth knew from the way he squirmed and the sounds he made that his kitten had passed desperation some time ago.

“There you are,” Antony said, using the same tone you would to calm a child or a skittish animal. “Now, love.”

Bhintu moved forward, taking the kitten’s whole length into his mouth, swallowing him to the root easily and even managing to keep in perfect time with Antony’s sudden thrusts. It didn’t take more than a couple of hard thrusts for the kitten to come screaming. Antony didn’t last long either, finishing with quick, harsh jabs as his partner drank the kitten down, even as he went limp between them.

Gareth throbbed at the sight. He looked forward to getting his kitten home to play with later tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who is enjoying still. Sorry this chapter took so long (and hope it was worth the wait)--work has absolutely eaten the particular, uh, drive writing these stories needs. It isn't abandoned, but further updates are likely to be much further apart. 
> 
> If you want more to tide you over, you can wander over to the sister story, Fireworks and Warnings. If the first chapter is too non-con as opposed to dub-con for your liking, Chapter 5 is Gareth and Vince's first time together. 
> 
> Also, a cautious reminder that Prepared is tagged for non-con, and that is a separate warning from the overall dub-con premise. Uh, we're getting close to that.
> 
> Final quick note: I love, love, love everyone's feedback. I know people don't love leaving feedback on stories of this type, but rereading through the comments definitely helped me push through the end of this chapter. Also, I reply to most comments, so if you left a guest comment--go back and check! I probably replied!
> 
> Thank you all again for your patience.


	15. The Test Begins

Maybe Gareth should have been surprised to be asked to dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Le Roi, but honestly, he wasn't. He was only surprised it had taken almost six months to get the invite. It wasn't a burden to have dinner at Thin Air again, though it would doubtless be much less fun without his kitten. 

He wished he hadn't given him the evening off. Vincent was the rare kind of whore who serviced clients who wanted more than a quick rub-off. They wanted care, attention, servitude. Or they wanted to play, to explore limitations. It was a damn shame the kitten wasn't a true masochist. He truly got little to nothing out of pure pain. But he was an innate sub and an absolute ass slut. Gareth had used the sensitizing formula before, but he'd never had anyone react to it like the kitten had. It was truly like he was _made_ for it. That he was a rare beauty was icing on the cake. 

Maybe he'd call the kitten in later this evening. It may be his sister's birthday, but it was also a school night. 

Le Roi and his wife stepped to the table, a striking couple themselves. Gareth stood and stretched out a hand to both of them, exchanging pleasantries and getting the wife's name--Regina. Le Roi waved him off when he tried to come around to pull out Regina's chair, instead doing it himself. They looked happy and in love. Had they both played with his kitten?

"Dinner first, before business, I think," Le Roi said. Gareth inclined his head, and the three of them made small talk throughout the meal. Regina more than held her own, and Gareth was surprised to realize that Le Roi actually allowed his wife to take control. Not a dynamic he would have expected of such a pair. 

When dessert had been served, Regina waved away the waiter with a subtle signal to stay away. Thin Air hosted the city's best, and deals were made over its tables regularly. The staff were absolutely discrete and knew when to give space. 

"Lovely as this has been, I'm sure you know we would like to discuss Aurum." 

Gareth smiled. "You're not the first to fall under his charms, my lady."

"No, I'm sure I'm not. We would, however, like to explore the possibility of being the last."

That was not the script Gareth was expecting. He narrowed his eyes. "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Of course you do. We know what your business is. We had our own resources look into him. His family must have owed you a lot of money. And I would wager you, what, used his sister as leverage? Him or her?" Gareth carefully kept his face blank. Regina didn't seem to be waiting for a reply. "We also know what you charged us for a test hour, and we have a good idea of how much of it he's likely made back in the past year and a half. Does he have any idea how much he is making for you?"

“There are other considerations,” Gareth demurred. “Yoga, ballroom, cooking and massage classes. Those expenses add up.”

"Of course they do,” Regina agreed airily. “But I’m sure you’re getting discounts for those, and frankly, I think your return on the investment more than covers it.” There was no good answer to that, and Gareth remained silent. “I'm also sure you're telling him he's only making a fraction of what you're actually charging for him. He probably thinks he's years away from paying off his family's debts."

"I'm afraid I don't see what that has to do with an arrangement," Gareth said, keeping his voice as neutral as possible. 

"We would like to monopolize him for a test week. Oh, we're aware he probably needs to have some time to go back to his sister and check on her. We can be flexible there. But for every minute that we require him, he is available to us and no one else."

He hadn't quite expected her to go in that direction. He raised a thoughtful eyebrow. "If you're willing to be flexible around his sister, I'm certain such an arrangement could be made," he said carefully. "It would be very expensive. He has a number of standing appointments that would be costly to rearrange."

"Well, depending on how the test goes, we would like to look into buying out his contract."

Gareth chuckled and took a sip of his wine. "You're hardly the first to make that request."

"That may be," Le Roi said as leaned forward. "But I think we're the first who are prepared to move forward regardless of your agreement. We would like to do this properly, pay off his debt plus a nice bonus. But we don't _need_ to go that way. Regina and I are confident that if all of his debts were paid and strings removed, we could entice him into an arrangement with us independently. This test week is really just a gut check. He's not a dirty little secret we want to keep. He would be a part of our family. Of course this would extend to his sister. For a young man who has lost so much, I imagine that could be very powerful."

"His contract is not for sale."

"But again, by our accounting, he has nearly paid off what he owes--and that's with our lowball estimate. What do you think he will do if he learns how much you've been charging for him, how much you haven't been telling him?"

Gareth glared. "He. Isn't. For. Sale."

Regina laughed, a happy sound that would have made him want to smile in response in nearly any other circumstance. She put a hand on Le Roi's arm. "My love, he's fallen into the oldest trap in the book. He's clearly smitten. It's a wonder you can stand to share him with his clients. Is it because at the end of the day it's you he goes home to? How often have you partaken of his charms without paying down his debt? If you included even a fraction of what you should have been paying, I would imagine he'd be fully paid off."

"How our businesses are run is none of your concern."

"But it is, Gareth," Le Roi said with a smirk, sitting back. "And more importantly, it's your boss's. I imagine the actual Mr. Evermark would be very interested in our calculations. We are personally acquainted."

"Mr. Evermark would be very interested in retaining Aurum's services," Gareth said through nearly clenched teeth.

"Not nearly as interested as he might be in building a better relationship with us, I don't think."

Outwardly he seethed, but inside, Gareth knew they were right. Gareth was high on the totem pole, but he didn't sit on the top. And his boss _would_ be more interested in building a relationship with the Le Rois than in keeping Aurum. The kitten was beautiful, but Evermark would see an expiration date on him. It may be five years out, but to Evermark he was just another asset, another whore, even if he was an unusually profitable one. They were coming to Gareth first to get his buy-in, as much as they could. If they went over his head, it could cost him more than his kitten--it could cost him his life. It wasn't like he could run. His kitten would never willingly abandon his sister, and once he realized that he was being forced to, he would fight tooth and nail, no matter the consequences to himself. 

There was no winning this battle. Gareth bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. 

"This week will be too soon. The week after we may be able to arrange. I'll look over his schedule tonight."

"We can wait a week or two to allow you time to sort out his other clients. Once the test is complete, I'd like to invite yourself and Mr. Evermark to dinner to discuss the full transition and opportunities for future arrangements. Regina, remind me to have Imogen reach out to Mr. Evermark next week."

"Of course."

Le Roi signaled for the check, a sign that the confidential talk was over. "This has been a very productive dinner." He smiled. "I look forward to working with you further, Gareth."

.o0o.o0o.o0o.

“I’ll be allowed to go home to check on Amelie, right?” Vince asked for what had to be the thirtieth time, but it was the first time he’d been hired out for more than an overnight, and it made him nervous.

“Yes,” Gareth snapped. Vince resisted the urge to cower. Gareth had been snappy and bent out of shape about this all week. Vince didn’t understand _why_. He would think that someone wanting to rent him out for a week was able to command a serious sum. “But they said they’d provide you with any clothing this week. You don’t need to bring anything with you to them but yourself.”

The glower in Gareth’s eyes told Vince it was probably the last time he was going to repeat himself. Vince lowered his eyes and bowed his head. He didn’t go to his knees, but it was a close thing. He didn’t like Gareth being this upset. He didn’t have to be the source of Gareth’s frustration to be the target of it.

“Come on,” he commanded. Vince followed him dutifully downstairs and to the car that was to take him to the Le Rois’ home. Gareth stopped him before he got in. “Remember, kitten. You are _mine_.” He cupped Vince’s crotch possessively, squeezing until he got a soft whimper from Vince. “Be good for the Le Rois,” he added, releasing Vince and stepping back. He turned on his heel and strode back into the building without a backward glance.

Vince sighed and let himself into the car. He was surprised to find someone else there. She was petite, older than himself, but certainly no more than twenty-five, though she had a generous bust. Pin-straight red hair brushed her shoulders, and freckles added character to her dainty face.

“Aurum, right?” she asked. Her voice sounded young too, but something about the way she held herself spoke of professionalism. “I’m Leslie, Mrs. Le Roi’s companion. It’s nice to meet you,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Aurum,” Vince said, taking her hand, more than a little confused.

“Relax,” she said. “We’re likely to get to know each other very well this week.” She brushed her hair behind an ear, and Vince noticed a subtle collar resting around her neck. It was sleek and probably passed for a stylized necklace, but he knew a collar when he saw it.

“How long have you been with her?” he asked, curious.

Leslie blushed. “Three years. It’s been…” She let out a sigh that was part embarrassment, part arousal. “Exhilarating.”

Three years. Vince wondered if she was like him, paying off a debt, but she didn’t seem like it. Even if she was, it wasn’t his place to ask. He’d already potentially overstepped by asking how long she’d been with them.

She reached up and fingered the collar at her throat. “I only just earned this last year. It still feels like a dream.”

Vince had no response to that. He’d met subs and slaves in passing at events, but he never had a chance to really _talk_ to them, to understand why they chose this. He figured it was unlikely that everyone had fallen into this life the way he had, but he found it hard to understand anyone who chose it.

“Mrs. Le Roi said you can deepthroat Mr. Le Roi,” she said.

“I can,” he said.

She gave a little shiver, but he couldn’t tell if it was arousal or revulsion. “I can’t imagine. When I first began scening with Mist—Mrs. Le Roi, I was really nervous that she would want me to service him.”

“She doesn’t?” Vince asked, though he could see why someone as petite as Leslie would find Mr. Le Roi intimidating. Vince was six foot, and he had been a little intimidated by Mr. Le Roi.

“No. That’s their rule—they take their own companions, and they’re allowed to watch one another, but no touching each other’s toys. At least, not without enthusiastic consent. I don’t mind exhibition, but I… am not comfortable with men touching me.” She gave him a small smile, like they shared some quiet knowledge. “A bad experience when I started getting into the scene, I’m afraid.”

Vince could tell he was missing something, but he wasn’t sure what it was. He understood, on some level, that people chose this, he just didn’t understand _why_. Then again, it wasn’t like he’d ever been in a relationship. Gareth had been his first. He honestly couldn’t remember being concerned with guys or girls before—he had always been too stressed with work, with his mom, worrying about Amelie. He remembered there had been girls, a few, who seemed open to it, but he never had time for anything other than a back-closet quickie, and that had seemed… like a sad way to lose his virginity, and it didn’t seem like it would really be satisfactory for the girls either. The idea of being fucked hadn’t appealed, and he’d brushed off offers to fuck him as if they were jokes. If any guy had come onto him to _be_ fucked, well, Vince had missed it. He didn’t think he’d have gone for it anyway.

“Are there any rules I need to be aware of?” he asked.

“Mr. Le Roi will give you the full rundown when we get home,” she said. “Do you… like women at all?” she asked.

Most of the women he’d been with were dominatricies, and sadists to boot, so if he was becoming a little biased against them, that was probably why. He did find women attractive, though, objectively. He remembered Caroline in his arms, her softness, the weight of her breasts, the slick warmth of her, the softness of her kisses. “Yes,” he said. He thought Leslie could be more like Caroline, soft and warm and yielding, than the dominatricies he’d been with. He wasn’t sure he could say the same about Mrs. Le Roi.

Leslie stared at him intently. He raised an eyebrow. “Something on my face?” he asked.

She blushed again. “No!” she said, looking down at her lap before peeking up through her lashes at him, “It’s just… you’re very attractive.” She brushed her hair back behind her ear from where it had fallen forward. “I’m, uh, I don’t usually find men so…”

“Pretty?” he offered. He knew very well what he looked like, how people reacted to him.

She nodded, blush still gracing her cheeks. She’d been in a kinky relationship for three years, from her account. How strange that she could still blush over such a simple thing. Vince had put aside his shame and embarrassment only months into his training. Maybe she was just one of those people who would never be wholly comfortable with it, would always find it racy and risqué.

He really hoped that Mr. Le Roi wasn’t expecting this kind of behavior from Vince. If he was, he was going to be very disappointed.

Leslie kept conversation going for the rest of the drive, mostly small talk, nothing personal, until they stopped before a large gate.

Vince’s stomach fluttered. He wasn’t _that_ surprised, but he was always uneasy around people who had _this_ kind of money. It took a couple more minutes before they pulled up in front of what could only be described as a _mansion_. It was a cozy-looking mansion, the front probably the oldest part of the house, and it looked like something out of a fairytale countryside, but Vince had seen the rest of the house sprawling behind it.

“Pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Leslie asked. “Over three acres of prime real estate. Olympic-sized pool, two tennis courts, sprawling lawns, and over 11,000 square feet,” she said, looking pleased.

 _Fuck_.

“This is us,” Leslie said cheerfully as the car pulled up to the rather understated entrance. Both of their doors were opened and Vince got out, taking everything in. He really shouldn’t be surprised, this _was_ the Hamptons after all, but he disliked being this far from Amelie, even if he had his cell.

Vince followed Leslie to the door, where she entered a code he didn’t catch. The door unlocked, and she motioned for him to follow. He was surprised to step into a cozy foyer. Despite the sprawling space, this part of the home, at least, felt comfortable and welcoming. Leslie went straight to a door and slid it aside, revealing some shelves.

“Please remove all of your clothes and put them here,” she said, taking off her own suit jacket as she spoke, hanging it up with the thoughtlessness of habit before starting on her button-down shirt. “Subs don’t wear clothing in the house,” she added when Vince hesitated.

He sighed. He belonged to the Le Rois for the duration of this visit, more or less, which meant playing by their rules. He took a hanger from the other side and slid his own jacket off before starting on his own shirt. That done and folded on the shelf, he took his socks and shoes off, slid them on the shelf below, socks stuffed into the shoes, and glanced over at Leslie just as she dropped her suit skirt. She wasn’t wearing anything under it, which, Vince had to admit, was hot. She caught his eye and smiled demurely as she pulled out a pants hanger to hang the skirt. Her nipples were pierced with gold hoops through them, fine gold chains connecting them, with what looked like opals and aquamarine gems hanging off them. It was… very attractive against her pale skin.

“Both the Master and the Mistress enjoy it when we look proper on the outside but are naughty underneath,” she said, blushing again, but this time, it was faint.

Vince filed the detail away, then dropped his own pants and stepped out of them. He could feel Leslie’s eyes on him as she giggled.

“I see you prefer to be a little naughty too,” she said. Vince took out his own pants hanger and pulled the cell phone out of the pocket setting it on the shelf before hanging up the pants. Apparently Leslie didn’t know he was purely for rent. She must have thought he was just someone else into kink, trying out a new relationship. It made Vince uncomfortable to lie to her about it, but he couldn’t imagine trying to explain that he had no say in this.

Thankfully, she didn’t seem to require a reply, turning to walk down a hallway. The tile was warm beneath Vince’s bare feet, which was a nice surprise, but he supposed it made sense if they were to be naked within the house at all times.

“Is there anyone else here?” he asked, mostly to prepare himself.

“There’s a personal chef, but she’s also in the life,” Leslie explained.

 _In the life_. Did Vince qualify as being _in the life_ if he didn’t choose it? Would he choose it if he could? He liked the sex, he knew, but everything about the kink was tangled up with not having an option, and he didn’t know, given absolute freedom to choose, what he would do.

Maybe he was just out of practice when it came to making his own choices. He controlled so very little about his life since meeting Gareth. He didn’t control his hobbies, didn’t choose who he slept with, how he had to submit to them. He didn’t get to tell people _no_ or refuse them anything. He rarely even got to pick out his own clothing or choose what he ate. It didn’t exactly _bother_ him; he was just sort of _aware_ of the fact.

There was a strange freedom to not having to make decisions. To having someone take them all out of his hands. All he had to do was obey. It was simple. He’d always been something of a people-pleaser.

As they stepped out onto a large, enclosed multiseasons room, Vince shook the thoughts away. He needed to focus on the now.

Even though the multiseasons room had to be sheltered and private, its walls were almost all clear glass, and Vince could see where they opened onto a true outdoor patio, and it _felt_ like being outside. A chill ran over Vince’s skin, because being naked in someone’s home was different than this somehow. Leslie didn’t hesitate, going straight to where Mrs. Le Roi sat in an overstuffed chair that must have been custom built for her. Being a petite woman, normal chairs like that would probably have made her seem childlike or overwhelmed her, but the one she sat in all but enthroned her.

Leslie immediately went to her knees, displaying before her mistress, completely unselfconscious. Mrs. Le Roi reached out, and tugged on the chain connecting the nipple rings.

“So pretty for me, pet,” she said, the words somehow a caress.

Vince looked away, feeling eyes on him. Ryan Le Roi sat across from his wife in a chair that was a complement of hers, enthroning him as equally. Vince took a moment to really take Le Roi in. He was a tall man, probably six-three, broad shouldered. Now that Vince really looked, he realized that Le Roi was younger than Vince had originally thought, maybe only early thirties. He had the kind of features that Vince could only think of as “classic All-American,” with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes that ran over Vince like a physical touch.

Deciding to follow Leslie’s lead, Vince went to Le Roi, kneeling gracefully, arraying himself automatically. The tile floor was heated here as well, which was a relief.

He heard Le Roi make a soft sigh. “Welcome, Aurum,” he said, his voice that same rich bass that Vince remembered.

“Thank you for having me, sir,” he replied automatically, keeping his eyes lowered.

“While you are here, I want to be your Master, is that clear, Aurum?”

“Yes, Master,” Vince said automatically, relaxing even further. He didn’t have to think under Le Roi’s care. That was good. He hated when they made him think.

He could feel Le Roi run his eyes over Vince, as if stroking everywhere they touched and lingered. “God, you are more beautiful than I remember,” he said, voice deepening further. Vince’s own cock twitched, satisfied at having pleased his temporary master with his appearance at least.

“You are sure you can take me, Aurum?”

“Yes, Master,” Vince said without hesitation. Really, taking that monster cock down his throat was definitely more challenging than into his ass. He didn’t need to breathe around things in his ass the way he needed to around things in his throat.

“Were you prepped before coming, Aurum?”

“I’m lubed, Master, but not stretched.”

He heard the hitch in Le Roi’s breath, and chanced a glance up through his lashes to see the noticeable bulge growing in his pants.

“And if I want to stretch you with only my cock, Aurum? What then? Can you take it?”

“Ryan!” Mrs. Le Roi said, sharp and ringing with reprimand.

“It’s all right, madam,” Vince risked interjecting. He looked up a little, meeting Le Roi’s eyes, watching the bright blue shrink as the pupils swelled as if in concert with his cock. “I need very little prep, Master. As long as we go slow, I should be able to accommodate you without injury.”

Le Roi let out a shuddering breath and reached into his own lap to squeeze the length that had to be aching in the confines of his suit pants.

“The boy says he can do it, Regina,” he said in a more level, reasonable voice, wresting control back, though his eyes never left Vince’s. “Would you like to see that, love? See his body swallow me as your pet eats you out?”

There was a long pause, but Vince could feel the sexual tension in the air. Le Roi wanted him and didn’t want to wait.

“I will only get to open him like this once, love,” Le Roi said, finally breaking eye contact to look at his wife. “Don’t you want to see it too?”

Leslie gave a little whine, so Vince assumed Mrs. Le Roi had been playing with her while they spoke, but he didn’t dare turn to look. Mrs. Le Roi and Leslie were _only_ Vince’s concern in as much as his Master declared them to be.

“Very well,” Mrs. Le Roi agreed, her own voice richer with her own arousal. “But be generous with the lube.”

“Always, my love.” He looked back down at Vince and smiled. “I see Aurum likes the idea. Don’t you?” he asked, a bare foot reaching out to nudge at Vince’s growing arousal. The bare feet were incongruous with the multi-thousand-dollar suit he wore, but it was oddly intimate and alluring. Such a strong, controlled man could be relaxed enough to be barefoot in his home, with his slave. He opened the placket on his pants, shifting the clothing aside to allow his full length to stand free. A shudder of desire ran through Vince because saying “fourteen inches” and remembering how long that _actually_ was wasn’t exactly the same thing. It also didn’t account for Le Roi’s sheer girth, which was definitely as thick around as a soda can.

But Vince could definitely be described as a size queen. The thought of that intimidating member sliding into him, opening him, reaching deeper than anything other than his largest toys reached earned a soft moan from him. He _wanted_ it, wanted to be filled and stretched, wanted to please his temporary master.

Le Roi stroked his hard cock, watching Vince closely. “You want this, don’t you, Aurum.”

It wasn’t exactly a question, but Vince answered anyway. “Yes, Master.”

With his free hand, Le Roi reached into a side table drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube and a condom. He set the condom aside for the moment, then hissed as he poured undoubtedly cool lube on the sensitive skin of his cock, but he slicked it generously.

“Stand up, Aurum.” Vince rose, grateful his knees didn’t crack. Le Roi grabbed the condom and handed it to him. “Put it on yourself,” he instructed.

Vince blinked and tilted his head in silent query.

Le Roi chuckled as his hand returned to stroke himself. “You said before you can cum from penetration alone, correct?”

“Yes, Master,” Vince said.

“I plan to make you cum on my dick, but I don’t want to have to worry about my suit. Put the condom on.”

That made sense. Vince opened the package and rolled it onto himself. It was odd to realize that he rolled condoms onto his _partners_ more often than he put one on himself. He didn’t like the way the plastic felt against the tender skin, despite the lube, but his cock was always a secondary spice to his pleasure. It certainly wasn’t going to stop him from cumming on Le Roi’s dick.

Le Roi took the wrapper and set it aside, then patted his lap with his clean hand. “Straddle me,” he commanded.

The chair was exactly big enough for Vince to comfortably wedge a knee on either side of Le Roi’s lap, and he had to kneel almost entirely up to get enough height to be able to sink down. Le Roi rested his clean hand on Vince’s hip while Vince steadied himself by setting his hands on Le Roi’s shoulders. Le Roi’s lubbed hand reached behind Vince, slipping down into his crease, running over his hole, teasing, before a finger slipped inside.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Le Roi commented, rocking the finger in and out a couple times before removing it.

“I will stretch,” Vince assured.

The hand on Vince’s hip, moved him forward slightly, and Vince went with the motion easily, sinking slightly when Le Roi pressed down. The pressure eased when Vince felt the thick head of Le Roi’s cock come to a rest at his entrance. Having seen it, touched it, had it down his throat was one thing. Even though logically he knew he’d had larger, that cockhead still felt _massive_ , and Vince had to take a breath.

“Color?” Le Roi asked.

It was so odd. Vince knew the colors, but almost no one ever asked him. “Green,” he said without thinking about it.

Le Roi’s eyes narrowed and he frowned. That wasn’t right.

“This only works if you’re honest, Aurum,” he said, admonishing.

 _Fuck_. Vince didn’t want to think right now. He wanted to just… _be_. Le Roi was making him think, and that made him even more aware of how large the dick he was going to take was.

“Command me,” Vince told him, desperate to hold onto that floaty, easy headspace he usually inhabited when all he had to do was obey. He pulled himself closer, partially hugging, partially clinging to Le Roi. “Please don’t ask questions. Just tell me what you want.”

Le Roi’s lubed hand rose to tease at Vince’s hole again without penetrating while his clean hand stroked Vince’s back. He got the sense that Le Roi and his wife were communicating, but he didn’t dare look to confirm. He breathed in Le Roi’s scent, rich and masculine, clean too, with a faint citrus undertone, orange maybe? Not lemon. He tried to reclaim that headspace, tried to relax.

“All right, Aurum,” he said after a long moment, the hand stroking his back rising to cup the back of his head. “I want you to take me in. I want you to sink down onto me. I want you to open up, _submit_.”

There it was. _That_ was what Vince needed. He needed to submit, needed to be told to. Like a switch had been thrown in his head, Vince relaxed, then tension draining. He could feel even his hole relax, begin opening. This time, when Le Roi pressed gently on his hip to guide him, Vince went easily.

All he had to do was obey and submit. His master wanted him to fuck himself open on his glorious cock, then all Vince had to do was please him, follow his will. His body resisted the huge head at first, but Vince simply rose a fraction and settled back down with a bit more force, not a lot. A little extra inertia was all he needed to overcome his body’s reluctance, and the flared head penetrated.

Vince gasped, throwing his head back, but his cock got harder. He was stretched so wide around that thick cock, could feel his entrance trying to close around it, those guard muscles wanting to snap back tight, but they couldn’t. The stretch was _incredible_. Despite what he’d told Le Roi, he didn’t think he’d ever taken something so big with so minimal preparation. It was _intense_ , but it didn’t hurt, just like he said it wouldn’t. His body had been _trained_ to do this, trained to open and be filled. Vince shifted up just a fraction, not near enough to pry the head from him, but enough to give him that tiny extra bit of downward inertia. He sank lower, slowly, and he _moaned_ as he felt his body slowly give, open up. It was as if he could feel every millimeter Le Roi gained, every tiny further advance.

His cock was hard against his stomach, now.

“Slow,” the Master cautioned, his hands now cupping Vince’s ass, pulling them wide. Vince slid down a little more, whimpering because it was _so_ _much_ and _so perfect_. “My lovely wife is watching this.” A finger dipped into his crease to press at where he was stretched taught around that glorious cock. “She likes to draw it out.”

“Yes, Master,” Vince said, raising up a little further again. When he went to drop, Le Roi’s hands stopped him, and he whined, frustrated. He wanted _more_.

“Patience, Aurum,” Le Roi said, though his voice was gravely, so despite his restraint, he was affected. His hands left Vince for a moment, and Vince watched him get more lube through lidded eyes. “Fuck, you really want it, don’t you?” Le Roi said, adding more slick to his cock. “You really want to take me in, want me to fill you, want me to fuck you open.”

“Yes!” Vince said, and used the opportunity to drop lower, keening at the feeling. So deep, yet not deep enough, not yet. He had to go so _slow_. His body was yielding, but not fast enough. “Yes, fuck me, fill me. Open me up,” he said, barely aware of the words tumbling out of his mouth.

Le Roi gave a small upward thrust, and it gained him at least another inch. That was enough to get Vince’s trigger, and he came from that alone, a sound somewhere between a gasp and a yell wrung from his throat.

“ _Motherfucker_ ,” Le Roi snarled, hands gripping Vince’s ass hard enough to probably bruise.

“Did he just cum?” Mrs. Le Roi asked.

“He sure did, and he got _tighter_ ,” Le Roi said, voice thick with his own need.

“You’re only about halfway in,” Mrs. Le Roi said, her own voice breathy but distant to Vince.

Rather than forcing him to move as he rode out his orgasm, the Master simply held him, stroking any skin he could.

“We’re not done yet,” the Master said, cupping his ass again, pulling the cheeks apart. “You heard my wife, you’re only halfway there.”

Vince whimpered.

The Master pressed again at his taught, stretched entrance, teasing. “I want you to take me all the way in, want to fill you up deeper than any man has. I want to fuck into you so deep, your stomach _aches_ with me.” Vince sank lower, his body more relaxed after his orgasm. “Open up for me,” he continued. “Let me in. While you are here, you are _mine_ , so obey me and _submit_.”

The words alone gave life to Vince’s cock. He sank lower, wanting that too.

“Talk to me, Aurum. How does it feel?”

 _Fuck_ , it was so hard to _think_ like this. “ _Full_ ,” he said. “Intense.”

“Does it hurt?”

Vince shook his head fiercely, sinking lower. He moaned at how deep his Master was getting, into places that were rarely reached.

“Talk to me, beautiful. I want to hear how you feel.”

“So deep,” he said, soft and needy, taking even _more_ in. There was still _more_. “So full _._ ”

“Do you like being filled like this, Aurum? Do you like having your ass stretched around my cock?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he said. “Yes, yes, yes.” The word tumbled out as he took even more in. “More, _more, more_ , stretching places that he’d only really had stretched by a fist. “Fuck me. Claim me.” He rose up several inches so he could sink down even more. The Master made a strangled sound in his throat at that, while Vince dry orgasmed. He wasn’t hard enough to cum again, but consistent pressure of that thick cock against his prostate was enough.

“Did you just cum again, Aurum?” the Master asked, sounding surprised but not upset.

“Yes, yes, yes.” Even though he still didn’t have the whole monster inside, Vince began to ride him, each downward thrust taking a little more in. It did feel like a kick to the stomach, but the _stretch_ was so incredible, he didn’t care. Feeling someone _so deep_ inside him was _amazing_. He felt utterly possessed, and the discomfort in his gut was barely an afterthought in comparison.

The Master growled, grabbed his hips, and _thrust_ , finally burying himself balls-deep in Vince.

Vince yelled this time, maybe screamed, but he came again, writhing on that massive dick, feeling his body trying to tighten around it, feeling it fail. It was _unbelievable._

Apparently the Master was done being patient, because he began to thrust, short little thrusts quickly giving way to longer, deeper, _harder_ thrusts.

“That three times already you’ve orgasmed,” the Master said through gritted teeth, raising Vince almost all the way off his cock before plunging him back down. He nailed Vince’s prostate on that particular thrust, and it made Vince orgasm yet again, clinging to his Master’s shoulders so he didn’t pitch backward. His cock was finally almost all the way hard again, and he was sure his prostate was effectively being milked from all the stimulation it was getting, but he was beyond words as the moment.

At some point, Vince had stopped being in control of the ride and the Master had taken over lifting and dropping him. The inconsistent angle that produced meant sometimes the prostate got a head-on stab, sometimes, it was just a passing pressure, but either way, it wasn’t long before he came again, sinking deeper into that mental state where there was the pleasure and his Master and nothing else.

By the time his Master finally came, filling him, giving a final jarring thrust that stole the breath from Vince’s lungs, he had lost track of how many times he’d orgasmed. His cock and balls _ached_ , and he recognized the feeling of having been wrung dry. He slumped, boneless, against the Master as the Master rode out his own orgasm, the extra little thrusts that accompanied it barely registered after the intense fucking. The Master’s hands stroked him all over, touching anywhere he could.

“God, that was…” the Master trailed off, unable to articulate any further.

“That was amazing,” the Mistress said from across the room. She sounded out of breath and satisfied, and it made the ball of warmth behind Vince’s ribs grow. Not only had he satisfied the Master, he’d managed to satisfy the Mistress, even though he’d all but forgotten about her.

The Master didn’t seem in any hurry to unseat himself. A fluffy, overstuffed down blanket was wrapped around Vince’s shoulders, feeling like a warm cloud, and the Master’s hands moved outside of it, continuing to stroke Vince through it. The chill Vince had barely begun to register, dissipated under the warmth of the blanket, and the warmth of his Master.

Without meaning to, Vince dropped off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in this chapter. I wanted to get this out for hitting 40k in hits, but didn't quite make it. 
> 
> You may have noticed that I pulled this out of the Anonymous Collection. I have another thing in the works that I've been contemplating sharing, and if I do, it will be here. Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I have, in fact, finally figured out how to get Vince a happy ending in Prepared, but it's going to be a while.


	16. A Painful Test

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short warning: The first section of this chapter is very not nice to Vince. If you didn't like the first chapter of Fireworks, you may want to jump to the first scene break.

Vince lifted his arms above his head, allowing Ryan—he’d become _Ryan_ in Vince’s head in the last couple days, when he wasn’t Master, at least—to fix the cuffs around his wrists on a chain to the crossbar meant to stretch him out like this. The stretch was high, but not uncomfortable, particularly since he wasn’t going to have to hold his arms in place. Ryan tested the tightness of the cuffs. They were lined with something soft and velvety, so they shouldn’t leave marks.

“I know you’re not a masochist,” Ryan began to speak, giving a tug on the chain, testing how much play it had. “How are your arms?”

“Good, Master,” Vince said honestly.

Ryan chuckled. “You are so… spectacularly flexible.” He circled back to the front of the swing, picking up a couple more cuffs along the way. One went high around each thigh, their tightness carefully vetted by Ryan before he moved onto the next. Thighs cuffed, he stepped back to the side table to pick up ankle cuffs. “You know I’m going to hurt you,” he said, conversationally.

“Yes, Master,” Vince agreed.

“Even though you don’t enjoy being hurt.”

Vince would have shrugged if he could. “I am yours, Master.”

If he wasn’t wrong, he saw Ryan’s cock swell slightly. He was too large to cram himself into the crotch of tight-fitting pants, so that monster cock was down one of the legs. The pants would have otherwise been painted on, and Vince couldn’t imagine it was terribly comfortable. Even to his eyes, the obvious bulge of Ryan’s dick, outlined against his thigh in that tight leather, was vaguely obscene. He imagined being filled by it, imagined riding it, and his own cock twitched, beginning to gain interest.

Ryan noticed and grinned. He finished affixing the ankle cuffs, then stroked Vince’s growing erection.

“If you aren’t a masochist, Aurum, then what is this from?”

Vince glanced at him through his lashes. “Imagining you fucking me, Master.”

 _Yes_ , that was another throb. It thrilled him to be able to affect a man like Ryan like that.

“ _Really_?” Ryan asked, somewhere between skeptical and intrigued.

“Yes, Master,” Vince said.

Ryan went back to the table and got the next set of cuffs, these also for his thighs, but for much closer to his knees. Setting one cuff on Vince’s stomach, Ryan said, “Tell me about it.”

“What would you like to know, Master?”

“What about me turns you on this much?” Ryan asked, checking the cuff. He paused to stroke Vince, a single, strong, deliberate stroke that made Vince’s breath catch. “Tell me about it.” He reached before he picked up the next cuff, he stroked his trapped cock, and Vince’s own dick twitched. “You like my big cock, beautiful?” he asked with a knowing grin.

“Yes, Master.”

“Tell me what you like about it.”

“Its size, Master,” Vince said, his own arousal climbing as Ryan attached the last cuff. “How big it is. How it _fills_ me. Stretches me…”

Ryan chuckled, stroking Vince’s cock again. “You don’t even have any cum left in you,” he said, and he wasn’t wrong. Vince had cum more times the last few days than he ever had in his life. Just because _Ryan_ had to limit his rounds didn’t mean he didn’t find making Vince writhe and beg a turn-on. He was fascinated with Vince’s ability to dry orgasm and had milked his prostate absolutely dry for several days now. Vince’s balls ached from it, and he barely produced precum anymore, never mind actual ejaculate.

“You like feeling me deep in here?” Ryan asked, putting his hand on Vince’s abdomen, then stroking a line up till under his ribs.

“Yes, Master,” Vince said, his ass twitching, itching to be filled again. He always enjoyed being fucked, but Ryan’s cock took him to a new headspace.

Ryan pressed one of Vince’s thighs wide, using a carabiner to attach the knee cuff to the structure of the swing, before repeating the process with Vince’s other leg. He then connected the ankle cuffs to the high thigh cuffs with a similar latch, leaving Vince utterly helpless and exposed.

Cock hardening further, Vince felt himself beginning to slip into that headspace where he became _kitten_. It was different with Ryan, though he wasn’t sure why. Something about the way Ryan sent him into that headspace kept him more… _aware_. He hadn’t blacked out or forgotten anything they’d done, anything Ryan had enticed him to do. When he came out of it, he always remembered.

Chuckling, Ryan stroked Vince until he was at full mast. “So eager for me.”

“Yes, Master.”

“This eager, even though I’m going to hurt you.”

That brought Vince down a little bit. “In spite of, Master,” he conceded.

Ryan watched him with heated eyes, like he was prey, continuing to stroke him just enough to keep him turned on, keep him needy. “What are your words, Aurum?” he asked.

 _This again_ , Vince thought. Ryan insisted on it, and Vince didn’t know why. It wasn’t Vince’s place to refuse Ryan anything unless it would potentially permanently harm Vince.

“Green for good, yellow for slow, red for stop,” he recited dutifully, for the third time that session already. Hopefully it would be the last.

“If you say ‘red,’ I will stop immediately, and play will end. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, Master,” Vince said, _again_.

“All right then,” Ryan said. “Where are you at now?”

“Green,” Vince said without thinking about it. As if he would ever say anything else.

“Good,” Ryan said, voice dropping as he stopped stroking Vince.

Vince whined just a little at the loss while Ryan turned back to his cart. “I want to make you cry and scream, Aurum. I want to make you beg, hear to plead for mercy.”

Heartrate rising, Vince forced himself to keep his breathing steady. It wasn’t a _good_ anticipation, he knew. He all-too-clearly recognized the difference between eager anticipation and anxiety, at least most of the time. 

“Have you heard of figging, Aurum?” Ryan asked.

Trying to think around the growing anxiety, Vince shook his head. “I don’t think so, Master.”

Ryan stroked Vince’s inner thigh gently, as if petting, running his hand up to stroke Vince’s cock again. “Figging is the practice of inserting a peeled ginger root into the anus. The oils in the ginger root will burn.”

No, Vince hadn’t heard of something like that. He’d had more than a few uncomfortable things inside of him before though, and the counterpoint of Ryan’s hand stroking him was soothing.

“So good, Aurum. Relax. Just do what you’re told, and you will make me very happy.”

 _Okay_ , Vince thought. He could definitely do that. Making the client happy was the most important thing, so if Ryan said all he needed to do was relax, that was what he’d do.

The hand left Vince’s cock to stroke his faces. Vince leaned into the touch, relaxing further.

“So good, Aurum. So beautiful,” Ryan said, voice rough but the praise was sincere.

Ryan’s thumb stroked Vince’s cheek for a moment before returning to his dick yet again, making sure to keep him interested. “All right now, beautiful, _relax_.”

Something about that tone was undeniable, and Vince relaxed even further, dropping more into that hazy headspace where all he had to do was obey and feel. That feeling only lasted a moment before the ginger root was pressed into him. It wasn’t that thick, maybe an inch or so, but it was curved and almost as soon as it was in Vince, it began to _burn_.

“There you are, Aurum. So good for me,” Ryan said, his tone low and hypnotic as he began to press on the base of the ginger, wiggling it in Vince’s body. Vince whimpered at the feeling. He’d had plenty of uncomfortable things inside of him before, but this wasn’t discomfort, this was _pain_. “Don’t hold it back, beautiful. I want to hear you. How does it feel?”

He pressed on the root again, and the burning intensified. “It hurts, Master,” Vince gasped out, tensing, his cock rapidly deflating, though Ryan kept stroking him. The conflicting sensations tore at Vince. He tried to flex into the hand on his cock, but it squeezed the ginger root inside of him, and the burning surged.

“Try not to tense, beautiful. Tensing squeezes it, which releases more of the oils.”

Vince had to bite back a sharp _I hadn’t noticed_ , and simply tried to control his breathing, tried to ride out the pain the way he did when he was with sadists. But this wasn’t like the pain of spanking or caning or whips. It wasn’t the eventual numbness of pinching things that led to oversensitivity. This pain was _consistent_. Vince squirmed, trying to get away from it, but there was absolutely nowhere to go, no way to make the pain go away, and it just kept _building_.

A sharp slap, spread across both cheeks and hitting the end of the root squarely, forcing it in deeper, into new, untouched tissue, wrenched a sob from Vince.

“ _God_ ,” Ryan breathed out, still trying to get Vince hard. If Vince had any room for thought beyond the burning in his ass, he would have told Ryan that he was wasting his time. Vince couldn’t get hard through this kind of pain. What part of _not-a-masochist_ had Ryan forgotten? Ryan spanked him again, hard. Vince cried out, squirming. He wanted to get away, but there was nowhere to go. Ryan caressed the cheek that had just been slapped, then pressed Vince’s thigh so wide, he could feel the burn of the stretch. Then he patted Vince’s balls, making Vince gasp and try to close his legs to protect himself, but there was no way to. Ryan’s hand continues stroking Vince’s dick, trying to get him hard, even as his other hand alternated between spanking his ass and tapping his balls.

It didn’t take long for Vince to dissolve into outright sobbing. Still, Ryan continued to stroke him, trying to encourage him to get hard, even going so far as to begin blowing Vince. His cock twitched, but every time it started to stir, Ryan, spanked him again, driving the ginger deeper, bringing the burn of it back to the center of Vince’s attention.

“Please!” he cried. “Please, Master,” he begged.

Another hard spank made Vince tense around the ginger root, the burn seeped deeper inside, and Ryan’s mouth swallowing down his limp dick was an unwelcome counterpoint. Ryan spanked him two more times, spinning Vince further down into a mindless pain.

Ryan released his dick and nibbled at the sensitive V of his hip. “Color?” he asked, low, gravely heat in his voice.

 _Submit_ , he thought. That was his job, to submit, to allow his Master to satisfy himself using Vince. “Green,” he gasped out around the sob tightening his throat.

“Look at me, Aurum.”

There was no disobeying that command. Vince opened his eyes and watched Ryan swallow his whole dick down again. His tongue swirled around the head of Vince’s dick, and his skillful mouth began to bring Vince’s dick back to life, despite the continuing burn inside. There was something almost _wrong_ about watching Ryan going down on him. Vince wanted to look away.

Ryan pulled off long enough to say, “Keep watching me, Aurum. Don’t look away until I say you can.” Then he dove back down, continuing to give Vince the best blow job he’d ever had, even taking Vince into his throat when Vince got hard enough.

When Ryan pulled off again, Vince was fully hard, the pleasure of Ryan’s mouth enough to overshadow the pain, at least for now. Ryan watched him with intense eyes as he straightened, continuing to stroke Vince’s dick. “Color, Aurum?”

“Green,” he said, because he didn’t have other words to choose from, no matter how many times Ryan told him otherwise.

Pulling Vince’s dick back to his mouth, Ryan licked the head, then drew his hand back and spanked Vince— _hard._ Just like that, the pleasure became barely an afterthought.

Time quickly lost all meaning, Ryan pushing him with pain until he thought he’d break before backing off to try and balance it with pleasure. The ginger root stayed, constantly burning, to he point that it overwhelmed anything else, even when Ryan switched from spanking to the cane. The cane was a vicious kind of pain, but it was the kind of pain he could ride out, breathe through. It was pain he understood. The ginger was different, and it was terrible.

Through it all, Ryan kept asking him what color he was at. To the point that the only words Vince could say were _please, Master,_ and _green_.

He was barely coherent when Ryan finally pulled the ginger out and sheathed himself in Vince.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.

Ryan could barely get the condom on himself in his eagerness to finish himself in Aurum. After edging Aurum for nearly two hours, Ryan’s own control was frayed. The strain and tension of the spanking, figging, and caning had left Aurum almost too tight to enter, but his body somehow gave way and welcomed Ryan’s cock like it belonged there. Feeling like a hair-trigger teen again, Ryan could barely hold out for five minutes before his own orgasm crashed over him.

He slumped against Aurum, letting the swing take their full weight for a minute before leveraging himself up to check on Aurum. Golden hair clung to a sweaty and tear-stained face. Ryan wiped away the trails still falling.

“So good,” he praised. “So perfect, Aurum. You were so spectacular.”

Aurum didn’t look at him or seem to respond, and warning bells began to sound in the back of Ryan’s mind. Ryan wiped away more sweat and realized how cool Aurum was, clammy.

 _Fuck_ , he thought, scrambling to free Aurum from the swing. When all of the buckles were loosened, he levered Aurum up, but he was a limp doll, barely aware. Ryan carefully shifted him until he was in a bridal carry. For someone so tall, he was surprisingly light. Aurum leaned his head against Ryan’s shoulder, seeming to try to snuggle into him as Ryan carried him into the bathroom, where he’d set up the bath prior. A bath that maintained temperature had been one of Regina’s better ideas, since it allowed him to fill it _before_ playtime, which meant it would be ready immediately _after_. Aurum was far too cool in his arms.

He had to set Aurum down on the oversized ledge to step in himself, and by then, Aurum seemed aware enough to at least sit up on his own, though he was shivering. The heat of the water as Ryan dipped his feet in it seemed to snap him back into his mind a little bit. Ryan stripped out of his own leather in record time to climb into the tub, keeping a steading hand on Aurum, then climbing in, coaxing Aurum in with him. Aurum hissed as his ass touched the water, no doubt _quite_ sensitive after the extensive spanking and caning it had gotten. It was going to bruise spectacularly, and part of Ryan was sorry for that. He hadn’t been _planning_ to cane Aurum, but when Aurum kept saying _green, green, green_ at every check in, he couldn’t resist escalating. Had Gareth lied? Was Aurum truly a masochist and unable to accept it?

 _No_ , Ryan forced himself to admit as he settled Aurum’s weight against himself, rubbing Aurum’s arms as he encouraged Aurum to sink down until only his neck was above the water. Aurum hadn’t said _green_ because he secretly loved the pain. Once Ryan brought out the cane, he had barely been able to get Aurum’s cock to twitch, much less get hard. Despite his assurances, Aurum hadn’t been able to tell him no, and Ryan’s own need to push had let him push what was probably far beyond Aurum’s natural boundaries. He had let himself forget that Aurum was an Evermark rental, not a consensual sub.

He carefully rubbed Aurum’s arms and legs down, making sure to test their mobility and help him stretch out in the warmth of the bath, even though it earned him a lot of soft whimpers and gasps. Then Ryan carefully washed Aurum down, even washing his face and hair. He rained soft praises and encouragements down on Aurum the entire bath, only getting out when they were both at risk of turning into prunes and Aurum seriously close to nodding off.

Not trusting Aurum not to fall if he tried to stand under his own power, Ryan toweled himself off quickly, tucking himself into a robe, then repeated the steps with Aurum. With an arm around his waist, Aurum was able to limp to the bed, but he still seemed dazed. Ryan had him sit while he carefully wrung as much water from Aurum’s hair as possible, then pulled out a brush to brush it. The entire time, he continued to murmur soft reassurances and directions, but Aurum didn’t say a word, though he did manage to down a full water bottle at Ryan’s direction.

Ryan would have enjoyed brushing Aurum’s hair till it dried like a golden curtain, but Aurum would not last that long. Instead, he pulled it back in a loose braid and tied it off, then ushered Aurum under the blankets. He got an extra down comforter out of the closet that he could add to Aurum, knowing the weight of it would be as welcomed as the warmth, then he dropped his own robe before he slid into the bed next to Aurum.

As soon as he was settled, Aurum began creeping toward him.

“Come here,” Ryan said softly, opening his arms.

Aurum moved immediately, pressing his full length against Ryan’s, settling his head over Ryan’s chest. The damp hair was a little cool, but Ryan just pulled the extra comforter to make sure it covered them both. He stoked any skin that happened to be in reach, an Aurum sighed, more felt than heard, and seemed to drift right off to sleep.

Sleep would not come nearly so easily to Ryan, he knew. He had made a grievous mistake. Reaching over to the nightstand, he grabbed his phone from where he had sat it earlier, and sent a quick text off to Regina. He set the phone back down and returned to stroking skin wherever he could, relieved that Aurum’s warmth seemed to have returned. At least he hadn’t sent Aurum into shock.

But that was a very low and pathetic bar to have set.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.

Regina knocked softly on the door before letting herself into the second master. She knew as soon as her eyes landed on Ryan and Aurum that something was very _wrong_. Quickly closing the door behind her with a quiet click, she made her way to the bed, easing herself onto the edge next to Ryan.

“Darling, what’s wrong?” she asked, reaching to caress his face. He flinched away from her touch, alarming her further. Aurum was huddled into his side, mostly hidden under the heavy, soft comforter, but what little she could see of his face was pale, and even asleep, he looked like he’d been crying. That wasn’t surprising, considering what Ryan had planned, but this was not how Ryan usually acted after indulging in an overt pain session.

“Would you be willing to stay with Aurum tonight?” he asked rather than answering her question. “I’m not sure it would be good for him to wake up with me.”

If the warning bells had been going off before, they started escalated rapidly at that point.

“Talk to me,” she said, commanding, not requesting this time.

Ryan closed his eyes and sighed. “I went too far.”

“That doesn’t tell me anything,” Regina replied sharply. “What happened? Specifically?”

He sighed again, but said, “I was planning on figging and spanking?”

“Yes, and?”

“Aurum is not a masochist,” he stated.

“Which we already knew. Gareth said he’s serviced sadists before, and he agreed to the play, didn’t he?” She knew with absolute certainty that Ryan would never have started the session without getting Aurum’s agreement.

“I thought I had, but I misjudged. I made sure he knew his safewords, made sure he could safeword out. I knew something was wrong. It’s been itching at me since he came, I just couldn’t put my finger on it,” he said, starting to get angry with himself. Even the slight raising of voice made Aurum flinch and whimper in his sleep. Ryan took a deep breath, visibly calming himself.

“He didn’t safeword out, did he?” she asked, just so he had the chance to say it.

“Worse,” he said, eyes filled with guilt. “I don’t know that he _can_ , Gi.”

The full implication hit like a slap to the face, and Regina sighed in sympathy. “He’s an Evermark rental,” she said.

Ryan nodded. “Barring permanent physical damage, clients are allowed to do nearly anything to Evermark rentals. No matter how many times we’ve told him the last few days that he can safeword out, I don’t think he _can_ unless he’s in genuine physical danger. Pleasing the client is too ingrained in him.”

She took a breath of her own, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose to recenter her. “What did you do?”

“Nothing I did would keep him hard while he was being figged. I knew he wasn’t a true masochist, but most people enjoy a certain amount of pain play, and I thought I could get him over it… when I couldn’t but he wouldn’t safeword out… I lost my temper.” He looked away from her, ashamed, and rightfully so. He was far too experienced a Dom to make that mistake.

“What _exactly_ did you do?” she asked, wrangling her own temper into control. She would not repeat her husband’s mistake.

“I escalated. I moved onto caning, trying to push him to the point where he would just _safeword out_ ,” he ground out the last words like they physically pained him. “I didn’t realize how far I’d pushed it until he was nearly insensate.”

“ _Ryan_ ,” Regina said, unable to hide her disappointment.

“I know,” he said, curling Aurum more tightly to him. “I may very well have ruined any chance we have to offer a genuinely consensual arrangement with him.”

_Breathe in, hold for one… two… three… breathe out, for one… two… three…_

She made herself count her breaths until she could speak like a rational human being. Ryan, recognizing it, simply waited for her to declare judgment. When she sure she would practical, she said, “We still have to buy out his contract. He can’t stay with Evermark, and he _definitely_ cannot stay with Gareth. He’s probably the single most innate sub we’ve ever seen. I don’t know how Gareth lucked into him, but he must have made a fortune on Aurum. He doesn’t know the basic tenants of a healthy BDSM relationship, and he’s going to be a target for abuse until he understands what he is.” They weren’t saints—far from it—and they couldn’t help all of the rentals under the Evermark banner, but Aurum wasn’t just _any_ rental. If it became known that there was a sub like him available, even without the masochism he’d have Doms falling over themselves vying for him.

But he deserved to understand what he was, what he needed. If he didn’t, he’d never stop being used.

“What are you thinking?” Ryan asked.

“I’m thinking that he’s still wrapped tightly around you despite what you did. Obviously you managed his aftercare well, at least.” She tapped her finger against her bottom lip for a moment while she thought. “I will stay here with you both tonight. In case he panics when he wakes up. But if he truly doesn’t understand he _can_ say no, then there’s a chance you haven’t fucked this up irrevocably.” Ryan winced at that, but he didn’t disagree. “There’s a chance that he may simply accept that you were allowed to do that, no matter how much he disliked it.”

“I essentially tortured him,” Ryan admitted.

She shrugged. “Even so, he’s taken a lot in stride these last few days, and he obviously adores riding your cock. You may just need to be more gentle with him than you were planning to make up for your transgression.”

“And if he does panic?”

“Then we deal with it.” Her instincts thought it was unlikely. “Also spend the rest of the week getting as much of what you need while blowing his mind as much as possible. I would greatly prefer a formally consensual relationship. He probably doesn’t have many other opportunities for income. If we offer to house, feed, clothe, and educate him and his sister in exchange for sex, I suspect he’ll jump at it.”

Ryan grimaced. “That’s what we thought _before_.”

Irritated with his atypical pessimism, Regina waved her hand dismissively. “Let me go tell Leslie not to expect me tonight and get ready for bed, then I’ll join you both.” She reached out to stroke Ryan’s cheek. “You made a mistake. It’s a bad one, but let’s hope we can overcome it, shall we?”

He closed his eyes and nodded. “Thank you, love.”

She leaned in to give him a quick peck. “You’re lucky I love you too. Settle in. I’ll be back shortly,” she commanded, enjoying his unusual submission. They were both very Dominant individuals, so really, their relationship should have been a minefield. She was the only person she had ever seen Ryan defer to, and she relished the trust and love he expressed in those moments. Wasting no time, she slid from the bed and padded to the door. The stress lines around Ryan’s eyes and mouth had eased with her insistent optimism, and he cuddle Aurum closer, stroking a hand through his hair.

Praying she was right about Aurum, she slipped out the door. There had never been anyone they’d found who was such a complementary match for Ryan, and she didn’t think it likely Aurum would be easy to forget, much less replace.

There had to be a way to salvage the situation, even if it meant pulling on some of the same strings Gareth no doubt used to manipulate Aurum. She may prefer an overtly consensual agreement, but as demonstrated by their willingness to rent, needs must.

She just hoped their _needs_ aligned with Aurum’s _musts_.

.o0o.o0o.o0o.

Someone was carding their fingers through Vince’s hair. He was warm and cozy and loath to rejoin the world.

“Aurum,” someone called.

It took a moment for the name to sink in. He huddled into the side of the man he was next to, unwilling to wake up. The aches from the previous evening were beginning to make themselves known, but he hurt less than he would have expected. When he stretched his legs, his ass reminded him how thoroughly he’d been spanked, and he groaned.

“Aurum,” Regina called again, which was odd enough to make Vince open his eyes and turn to find her sitting close behind him. “Ah, there you are,” she said, brushing his bangs aside. “How are you feeling?”

“Grumpy,” he said before he could think better of it, snuggling back into Ryan’s side.

“Grumpy?” Ryan asked, with an odd note in his voice. It made Vince look up at him.

Vince winced. “Forgive me, Master. I’m not a morning person.”

“No need to apologize, Aurum,” Ryan said, sitting up just a bit, and this time he was the on who brushed Vince’s overlong bangs aside. “How do you feel after last night?”

“I’m fine, Master,” he said, confused.

Ryan’s hand dropped to his ass and squeezed. Vince hissed as the pain of the bruises became a sharp, deep pain instead of the low-level ache it’d been before. He squirmed, but didn’t dare try to get away.

“Not so fine,” Ryan said, sounding disappointed as he released Vince.

“A little bruised is all,” Vince protested, relieved for the reprieve.

“Why didn’t you safeword out last night, darling?” Regina asked, drawing Vince’s attention back to her.

Waking up more, he could tell he was a little dehydrated, probably from both crying and sweating last night, but he’d certainly had worse, and it was nothing a couple glasses of water wouldn’t mostly fix. “I’m sorry?”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she rubbed his shoulder. “We just want to understand. Ryan may like to cause pain, but you _are_ allowed to stop if it’s too much.”

Vince hated feeling like he was missing something, but he could tell he was. “I… don’t understand, Master,” he admitted, rather than trying to guess.

“You’re bruised,” Ryan said.

 _Duh_ , Vince thought, getting tired of feeling like he was missing something obvious. “You meant to,” he replied simply.

“I did, but you did not enjoy it.”

He really wanted to snap or go back to sleep. “Master?”

“You were hurt and did not stop me,” Ryan repeated as if rewording it would change the essence of what he was saying. It did not.

Vince sighed. “Master, you wanted to hurt me. That’s what you needed. I’m here to fill your needs,” he said. “Did you get what you needed?”

The subtle tension he’d felt in Ryan’s body eased, and Ryan cupped the back of his head, massaging the base of Vince’s skull gently. “My needs being met should not mean you are harmed.”

“I was hurt, not harmed,” Vince assured. He actually felt a lot better than he usually felt after a session with a sadist. He’d slept really well, and while he was sore, he didn’t feel shaky or twitchy the way he sometimes did.

“Well, in that case,” Regina said, reminding Vince she was there. “I’ll leave you boys to play some more.” She got off the bed, wearing only a thin negligee, and circled the bed to give Ryan a kiss before petting Vince’s head and leaving.

Vince blinked after her for a moment, but Ryan’s hand soon distracted him, slipping down to stroke his cock.

“God, you are beautiful,” Ryan said softly, then used the grip on the back of Vince’s neck to draw him in for a plundering kiss. The force, the control behind it washed away the last of Vince’s laziness, and he started to relax. The hand cupping the back of his head released him and trailed down his back to slip between his cheeks, rubbing over his hole. Vince’s hips couldn’t decide if they needed to thrust into the hand stroking him or the teasing at his empty hole.

Ryan didn’t make him wait long, dipping two long, thick fingers into Vince. The abrupt entry made Vince break the kiss with a gasp.

“You’re still damp inside,” Ryan said, a rumbling satisfaction in his voice. “All tight too.”

His fingers dipped in deeper, and Vince sighed, getting his knees under him a bit to be able to push into the feeling. Even Ryan’s hand bumping into bruises wasn’t enough to override the pleasure of being filled.

“Such an eager slut,” Ryan cooed into his ear. “You love being filled, don’t you?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Such a hungry, needy cunt,” he said, adding his third finger. “You need me, don’t you, you eager slut.”

“Yes, Master,” Vince replied, rocking back onto the fingers, wanting them deeper. The angle didn’t allow Ryan’s fingers to get anywhere near deep enough to satisfy, only enough to tease.

“Get me wet, slut,” Ryan commanded, shifting the blanket aside to show his hard dick.

Vince didn’t hesitate, shifting to take Ryan’s dick into his mouth. Ryan’s hands grabbed his hips and guided him to straddle him, putting them in a 69 position, though Vince thought it was unlikely that Ryan would go down on him. He didn’t protest, though, because the angle made it much easier to go down on Ryan’s substantial dick.

He was about halfway down Ryan’s dick when he felt Ryan’s hand land on the nape on his neck. “Be still, slut,” Ryan said in that tone that resonated deep in Vince’s core. “You said you would learn to take me at my pace, do you remember? If so, tap my thigh twice.”

He tapped his finger on Ryan’s thigh, drool running down the dick in his mouth.

“All right then, slut,” Ryan said. The hand that wasn’t on Vince’s neck squeezed Vince’s sore ass, before a finger dipped into his ass, finding his prostate unerringly. Vince _whined_ around the dick in his mouth, a tremble running through him as he fought to stay still. Ryan was too large for him to move carelessly. “Such a slut. I’m going to fuck your throat.” He pressed on Vince’s prostate again, getting another whimper and tremble. “You _need_ me in your throat, don’t you, pretty slut. Need me to fuck it, own it.”

 _Need it_ , Vince wanted to say, but if Ryan’s dick were any deeper, Vince would struggle to breathe, so there was no hope of talking around it. His cock throbbed with need, and he had to resist the urge to push back on the finger inside of him. Even though it was stroking his prostate, it was a terrible tease. Nowhere need large enough, nowhere near deep enough. He needed _more_.

“Okay, pretty slut. Needy cunt. Get ready because I want your nose buried in my balls.” Vince took a deep breath, then let himself sink deeper into that mental place where he didn’t have to think, just obey. When Ryan pressed down on his nape, Vince simply went with the motion, feeling his air get cut off as Ryan’s dick filled his throat. “So good,” he heard Ryan mutter. “So fucking good for me.”

Another finger stroked into his ass, teasing Vince’s prostate, making him moan and nearly gag on the dick in his throat, but Ryan’s pressure was consistent, refusing to let him back off until his nose was, as promised, buried in Ryan’s balls. Three fingers were inside of him now, teasing, taunting, but barely an afterthought compared to the weight stretching his throat, the musk of his Master in his nose. His Master’s hand moved from his nape to caress his throat, feeling how it bulged with the dick.

“So _perfect_. Such a perfect, needy slut _._ ”

Vince gagged as his Master rubbed his throat as if it were his cock he was stroking, and he started to get lightheaded.

Without warning, he was yanked off the cock. He barely had a chance to inhale when he was shifted and his Master seated himself in one hard thrust. Feeling himself stretch around the cock, jabbing his prostate and hitting his trigger without warning threw him into an orgasm so powerful, he nearly convulsed.

He could tell he lost time. When he came back to himself, he was still impaled by Ryan’s rock-hard length. His thoughts were scattered, and he could hear his own heart pounding in his ears as he tried to catch his breath. He was still dizzy and lightheaded, but the way Ryan stroked every bare bit of skin in his reach, petting him like he was something precious left Vince relaxed and floating on a mental cloud, despite his weight sitting on his sore ass.

“Such a perfect pet,” Ryan murmured into his ear, then began to roll his hips to find his own satisfaction.

Vince lost himself in the rightness of the cock filling him, Ryan’s praise ringing in his ears almost as good as an orgasm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll have been insisting this is porn with plot, so I officially now have a plot in mind for it, which means that I might need to have more scenes like a chunk of this chapter that are less about the porn and more about plot. 
> 
> Anyway, 50 _thousand_ hits? Over _one thousand_ kudos? You are all insane. And wonderful. But as I shift more to plot, let me know what you love and what you don't. I have a plan in mind, but, really, this would never have become a thing if not for all your love.
> 
> Also--if you really like my writing and would like to read more of my stuff, you might want to take a look at my bookmarks to see if you can find a darkfic from my other account ;)


	17. Safewords

“All right, beautiful,” Ryan said, stroking Vince’s hair. “I need you to repeat the rules back to me.”

Vince resisted the urge to sigh. “If you push me too far, I must use my safeword. If you think I have failed to use my safeword, then play will immediately end, as will our test week,” he dutifully recited. He thought Ryan was kind of missing the point of renting Vince. In his experience, the fact he _couldn’t_ say “no” was part of what they were paying for, but he didn’t make the rules, so if Ryan insisted, that’s what he would do.

He didn’t snark and point out that he thought Ryan unlikely to reach Vince’s limits, but it was tempting.

“What’s your safeword?”

“Red, Master.”

“And if you need to slow down but not stop?”

“Yellow, Master.”

“Good. Don’t disappoint me. I’m going to test you the rest of this week, are we clear?”

“Yes, Master,” Vince replied.

“When we first met, you said you’ve done crossdressing?”

“Yes, Master.”

“In public?”

“Yes, Master.”

Ryan hummed, sounding pleased. “Lay back and spread wide for me, Aurum.”

He didn’t bother to respond, simply following the order. Ryan’s eyes raked over him, making his cock twitch in interest.

“Ah, ah,” Ryan said, tapping Vince’s balls hard. Vince tried to pull his knees in to protect himself automatically, recoiling from the pain. “No, Aurum. I didn’t tell you to shield yourself from me,” Ryan said, pressing one of Vince’s thighs wide again. “If I want to play with your balls, if I want to slap them or pull them, I will do so unless you safeword.”

“Yes… Master,” Vince forced the words out, forcing his legs to stay wide, struggling to keep his legs open, even as he whimpered.

“So beautiful, Aurum,” Ryan praised. “I’m going to shave you,” he said, caressing Vince’s tender sac. “Then I have some toys I’m going to use, and then we’re going to dress you up and I’m going to take you out.” He stroked Vince’s dick, rubbing under the head, making Vince start to get hard again. Ryan smacked Vince’s balls again, even as he kept rubbing at the sensitive spot behind his head. Vince gasped and thrashed, torn between the pain and the pleasure. “I know you’re not a masochist, beautiful.” He slapped again and kept rubbing. “But I can condition your body to expect it, to react to it—to anticipate the pain as a precursor to greater pleasure. I can make you eager for it.”

Vince whimpered but didn’t contradict him.

“It’s easier to shave you while you’re hard,” Ryan said, continuing to tease at Vince’s cock until it was fully hard. There was already a towel underneath Vince’s hips, so Ryan didn’t hesitate to lather up Vince’s crotch with a warm shaving cream. “Have you been bare down here, Aurum?”

“No, Master.”

Ryan lifted a wicked-looking straight edge, then encouraged Vince to spread his legs even a little further.

“I love being your first,” he said, voice dropping in a way that Vince knew meant he was turned on. The cool blade against sensitive skin made Vince jump a bit, but Ryan rested his hand on Vince’s abdomen. “Stay very still, beautiful…”

Vince did his best not to breathe while Ryan shaved him, pausing to stroke him whenever Vince’s apprehension had him flagging the slightest. He definitely did not breathe when Ryan moved to shave Vince’s balls, teasing them, pulling the skin taught, rolling them between his fingers. Vince wanted to thrust, to seek more stimulation, but he didn’t dare. He felt so _empty_. Being this hard while being empty seemed _wrong_ somehow.

“Master…” he gasped.

“Shh,” Ryan hushed. “I’m almost done.” A final few passes with the razor, then it was wiped clean and set aside. Ryan got up, went to the bathroom, and came back with a damp wash cloth. The heat of the cloth against the newly shaved skin was intense, making Vince squirm as all of the residue of the shaving cream were removed. Once he was clean, Ryan sat back, heat in his eyes. “Such a pretty view of your pretty clit, baby,” he said, stroking Vince. Vince whined, thrusting into the stroking. Vince missed Ryan getting some oil or moisturizer, and slathering it over the tender skin. It stung, and Vince hissed, flagging a bit. “This will keep you from growing back so quickly,” Ryan explained, not hesitating to stroke Vince back to full mast. “I wonder…” He twisted his wrist, and it was like a taunt. “How would you react if I decided to just keep stroking you like this. You can’t come from your clit alone anymore, can you, beautiful?”

“No…” Vince admitted, whining a little.

“You know that I like women as well m as men, don’t you Aurum?”

It was getting really hard to focus on what Ryan was saying. “Yes, Master,” he said after the words processed.

“Do you remember what I asked you on our first test?”

Vince was lucky he could remember his name at the moment, forget something that had happened weeks ago. “I’m… sorry, Master…”

“It’s okay, Aurum. I’m not surprised you don’t remember. I asked how long you’d been in chastity. And I asked if you’d ever dressed as a woman.”

That rang distant bells. “Yes, Master.”

“I love your pretty little clit.” He dug the tip of his little finger into the head of Vince’s dick, making him whimper. “But sometimes, I want this pretty clit locked away. I want all your pleasure to come from your pretty cunt.” He took his hand from Vince’s cock and then reached up to fondle Vince’s pecs as though they were breasts. “I love taking a pretty woman to my club and showing her off. I want to do take you tonight.”

Ryan’s thumbs twisting Vince’s nipples was just something else that was increasingly difficult to think around.

“What… whatever, you… want, Master,” Vince fought for the words, trying to track the topic.

“I’m going to tuck this pretty little clit away, fill your pretty pussy, dress you up like the needy slut you are, then take you out and show you off at my club. How would you like that, beautiful?”

“If… that’s what makes… you happy… Master.”

“Where are you at, Aurum?”

_Fuck_ , he hated this light thing. No one ever asked him and meant it. “G—Green, Master,” he said.

“I can dress you up and take you out?”

“Yes, Master.”

“You’ve been out in public as a woman?”

Vince felt like he was right on the edge, but he was so fucking empty. “Yes, Master.”

“Can you walk in heels?”

“Yes, Master.”

Ryan groaned. “You are perfect, aren’t you?”

Vince was pretty sure that didn’t require a response.

“Do you know about Pavlov’s dog?”

_Did he know about_ what? “No, Master.”

A sharp smack to Vince’s balls made him cry out, and he tried to close his legs, but Ryan held them open.

“It was an experiment by a doctor name Pavlov. He would ring a bell before he fed dogs. He found that at some point, the dogs began to salivate when they heard the bell. A conditioned response to stimulus like that is called a ‘Pavlovian response.’” He smacked Vince’s balls hard again, but he didn’t stop stroking him, sending a confusion of signals through Vince as his body wanted to curl away, his arousal dropping, but the stroking keeping him hard. “Most people don’t realize what is so horrifying about a Pavlovian response. It’s a _biological_ response. Your body physically reacting to a stimulus. They’ve found the same response in drug addicts, when they shoot up in the same place—their bodies automatically accommodate for the drug influx. I believe you’ve been conditioned to one as well, pretty Aurum.”

Another hard slap, hard enough to make Vince soften despite Ryan’s continued hand stroking him.

“I think you’ve already been conditioned, beautiful boy. You can’t cum when your pretty cunt is empty. I could take this ring off you and stroke you for hours, and if your cunt were empty, I don’t think you’d be able to get there. If I fucked into you right now, you would cum. How often do you orgasm when a dick fills you, beautiful? Do you even orgasm from little toys? I bet I could fuck anything up into you, and you’d cum.”

Vince wanted to deny it. “My… trigger…”

“Yes,” Ryan rumbled, voice dropping. “But you dry orgasm _so well_.” The praise sent a shudder through Vince. “Your trigger is what? Five inches into you?”

He smacked Vince’s balls again, and Vince again before saying, “S-seven, Master…”

“I bet I could fill you up with a five-inch vibrator and have you dry cum so much that you’re nothing but a wired nerve. Fuck, you’d be amazing.”

The thought of it, of being filled, fucked, brain stuffed with nothing but the sweet fluff of cotton candy that _really_ pleasing a Master gave him made his cock harden further.

“Oh, what did I say that you like?” Ryan asked, stroking his bangs aside. “Put your hands up, beautiful. Stretch out for me. And what did I say that you liked so much?”

“… Amazing… for you…” Vince gasped as Ryan stroked him, putting his arms over his head. “Wanna be… amazing… for…”

“Oh, beautiful, you will be. You will be.” He leaned down and took one of Vince’s nipples into his mouth, making Vince arch beneath him. When he let up, he grinned. “I want you to cum for me.”

Vince whined. “Empty…”

“I know, I know.” He stroked down Vince’s side to cup his ass, then took Vince into his mouth.

“ _Fuck_!” Vince gasped. “Please, please, please…”

Ryan pulled off. “What do you need, pretty boy?”

“Need to be filled,” Vince said as Ryan went down on him again. “So empty… please… _please_ …”

“I think you can cum for me,” Ryan said, going down on him again.

It repeated until Vince was sobbing, begging, reduced to nothing but need and an empty hole.

“Yellow!” he cried out. His Master pulled off him, but Vince could barely _think_ , he was just so. Fucking. _Empty_.

Brushing away some of Vince’s tears, Master asked, “What do you need, beautiful?”

“ _You_ ,” Vince managed to choke out around a sob. “I need you. Need you inside. Please, please, please…”

Master cupped his face. “I am so proud of you, using a safeword when it was too much,” he murmured, his voice a rumble that seemed to hit Vince’s cock like a vibrator and made him whimper. He shifted though, and Vince felt that huge head at his entrance. “Master is so very, very proud,” he repeated, then pushed forward, sheathing himself in one hard thrust.

As soon as the tip of Master’s cock brushed over Vince’s trigger, he came on the spot, so hard his face and hair were splattered with his cum in addition to his chest and neck.

The next little bit was a haze as his Master made him cum a second time while he chased his own orgasm. He whimpered when Master pulled out, not wanting to be empty again, not so soon after he had finally been filled.

“Hush, Aurum,” his Master murmured, helping him to his feet, supporting his waist to get him to the bathroom. They sank into a prepared bath, and the heat in the water seemed to sink into his core, keeping him from that chill that so often came after intense sex. “Let me take care of you.”

The words rang with command, so Vince let himself relax against his Master, moving as he was told, practically drowsing after his face was cleaned and as Master washed his hair.

He didn’t really remember getting from the tub back into bed, just remembered being warm and satisfied, feeling hands carding through his hair, the rumble of his Master’s voice. When Ryan woke him up, it was gentle, with soft deep words and a gentle touch.

“Aurum. Wake up, beautiful boy. We’re going out tonight, remember?”

Not quite ready to be awake, Vince stretched out, trying to chase the sleep from his limbs. After a moment, he felt the almost cup-like thing around his dick and balls. He turned over and looked down, then startled when he saw what looked like women’s parts instead of his dick.

“Shh,” Ryan said, settling next to him, stroking his side. “It’s just a sissy belt, Aurum. One I want to keep you in for the rest of the week.” His hand dropped into Vince’s lap to stroke the artificial mound. Vince couldn’t really feel anything Ryan was doing, which was startling, but he could feel the plug inside his cock, holding it in place. “It’s all good, I promise. Just going to put that pretty clit away for a few days. That’s not what makes you _really_ feel good anyway, is it?”

“No, Master,” Vince replied, tracing the skin-toned straps that attached to it and sat low on his hips. Now that he was more awake and aware, he could feel the straps, though they weren’t uncomfortable at all, just _there_ , between his legs and attaching to the waistband like a jockstrap.

“Remember, beautiful? We’re going to a club this evening, and I can’t wait to dress you up.”

Vince closed his eyes. _Right_ , he thought. _Crossdressing_. That was fine. He could do that. It was just… jarring, not to see what he expected. He often went through that, though, when he was dressed as a woman, not recognizing the woman in the mirror. He took a deep breath, then opened his eyes again. “Yes, Master,” he said.

Ryan smiled, leaned in and kissed him, sweetly, gently. He wasn’t used to being kissed like that, like he was a partner instead of a product. Ryan stood and held out his hands. Vince took them and let Ryan help him stand. He felt… exposed in a weird way. As used to being nude as he was, this felt different in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Ryan held onto his hand and guided him over to the dressing area where a dress, underwear, and stockings and a garter belt.

“I’m going to help you dress,” Ryan informed.

Lowering his eyes, Vince said, “Yes, Master.”

The black garter belt was first, and Vince was encouraged to put his hands on Ryan’s shoulders to keep his balance as he stepped into it, stood still as Ryan pulled it up and settled it around Vince’s waist. He straightened the straps, making sure they were where he wanted, then picked up a black stocking. Ryan worked the stocking down, then used a hand to guide Vince’s leg up. The stocking was mostly opaque as it was worked up to Vince’s thighs, and Ryan took the opportunity to caress and touch the sensitive inner skin of Vince’s thighs when it was fully raised. He kissed the bare skin just above Vince’s cup, which sent a little thrill through him, but there was absolutely no getting hard in the device, so it was a pointed tease.

Ryan repeated the process with the other stocking, only this time he stopped to suck a hickey over the artery in Vince’s thigh while he tugged Vince’s guiche, getting soft gasps and sighs. Then he ran his thumbs over the Vs of Vince’s hips, teasing the sensitive skin there.

“How’s that feel, Aurum? You can’t get hard in that cage at all, can you? The plug locking it in place. It’s a tube, you know. I won’t have to remove you from this pretty cage for days.” He mouthed at the fake mound, and Vince moaned quietly in frustration, the visual recalling sense memories of Ryan going down on him, but unable to feel what he was doing.

As he continued to mouth at the mound as if he were truly eating Vince out, Ryan snapped the garters in place, which was frustrating, his mind supplementing the feelings he thought he should be feeling, turning him on but unable to get hard.

Placing a final kiss on the sensitive skin right above the cage, Ryan looked up at him and sat back. “Does that turn you on, Aurum? Seeing me between your legs, thinking of what it feels like when I go down on you?”

“Yes,” Vince admitted, acutely aware of how empty he was. At this point, being aware of being empty was often part of being turned on. He wanted to be filled, needed it.

Ryan grabbed a pair of silky women’s underwear and held them out. Vince set his hands on Ryan’s shoulders again, stepping into the underwear. Once it was in place, the material caressing Vince’s sensitive skin, Ryan ran his finger down the front of Vince’s hidden cage. Ryan stood, then stepped behind Vince, cupping his chest from behind, leaving Vince to look at himself in a full-length mirror.

“Look at you,” he murmured into Vince’s ear, kneading Vince’s chest as if they were breasts. Twists of the nipples made Vince gasp, getting more turned on, his hole achingly empty. His cock wasn’t where he’d be getting his pleasure from for a while—it was his ass. That was just fine. Vince was rapidly approaching the point where he craved being filled, being fucked.

In the mirror though, he saw a tall woman whose small breasts were being cupped, no sign of a cock at all. He looked away.

“Such a beautiful girl,” Ryan rumbled, pinching Vince’s nipples again, making Vince’s arch into his hands. The need settled low between his hips, behind his useless cock, centering on his empty ass because there was nowhere else he had hope of stimulation.

“I’m not—” Vince said, voice stolen as Ryan rubbed his hardening length between Vince’s cheeks as he pinched and twisted Vince’s nipples again.

“Beautiful girl,” Ryan repeated, letting off the nipples to knead at Vince’s chest. “Look at yourself, Aurum. See how beautiful you are.”

One of his hands dropped from Vince’s chest, sliding down until it disappeared into Vince’s underwear. His large hand easily cupped the cage behind the underwear, and he began to move it. His finger would reach further down until he was tugging at Vince’s piercing, but in the mirror, it looked like he was fingering a woman.

“ _Master_ ,” Vince said, pleading, the tease, even after having cum relatively recently, bordered on cruel.

“Look at my beautiful girl,” Ryan repeated.

“I’m…”

“Tonight you’re my girl. Do you understand, Aurum?” He tugged hard at the guiche. Vince’s toes curled into the carpet, though the stockings didn’t grip it.

“Yes, Master.”

Ryan groaned against his neck. “Fuck, you are everything I could hope for, do you know that?” He pulled his hand out of Vince’s underwear, getting a small whimper of need. “You are such a needy thing, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Master.”

He felt Ryan’s chuckle resonate through his back, but Ryan gently directed him to sit on the bench, keeping him from falling over. Ryan picked up the white dress from next to Vince and held it out. Gathering himself, he stepped into the dress, then gripped Ryan’s shoulders to stand, careful not to step on the dress, and Ryan pulled it up over his shoulders. The dress looked thin, more suited to summer than this time of year, but the stockings should help, and doubtless, a heavy coat would be involved.

“Turn back around, beautiful,” Ryan instructed.

Vince did so as Ryan settled his hair over his shoulder. The dress really was a summer or spring dress, spaghetti straps, a triangle bust that gave the illusion of a chest, a broad, detailed band under the chest, around the ribs, ending at the top of his ribs, letting the dress flow out, giving him hips. A couple tiers of ruffles dropped down, stopping just above the middle of his thighs, which flashed not only a thin line of skin, but also the lacey tops of the stockings and the straps of the garter belt.

“You can handle the makeup?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Keep it natural.” He took Vince’s chin in his hand. “Maybe something a little bolder on the lip.”

“How bold?”

“Red,” Regina said from the doorway. “Go with the red. It’ll be stunning against his skin and with the black and white.”

“You heard the lady,” Ryan said, giving his wife a fond smile as he went to her.

She gave Vince elevator eyes. “God, she really is beautiful, isn’t she?”

Something in Vince twisted at being referred to as a woman, as it often did. He’d gotten used to his dick being called a clit and his ass a pussy, but being referred to as a woman always sat wrong.

Calmer than he’d been, Vince sat at the bench and pulled the new makeup kit over. He applied just a little bit of gold to his eyelids before lining them, some mascara, a tiny bit of highlighter for the inside of his eyes, which made them look bigger. There were half a dozen new lipstick tubes, and be checked them until he found the satin red. When he put it on, there was no doubting Regina had been right. It took him from almost too young, almost too innocent, to something a little more aware, something more sensual.

“Well,” Regina said, sounding breathless. “Look at that.”

“Almost perfect, isn’t she?” Ryan asked, his voice dropping.

“Almost?” Regina asked, sounding intrigued.

Judging by the way Ryan was looking at him, Vince was reasonably sure he wasn’t going to like it. “I have some final bits of jewelry,” he said, walking over and opening a drawer in the vanity. He pulled out several boxes. He handed the first to Vince, and he opened it, finding diamond, heart-shaped studs in a gold setting. He flicked his eyes up at Ryan, who nodded, and he put them in quickly, finger combing his hair, but it had dried straight, the way it usually did. With the way it was cut, it easily worked for a man or a woman. Ryan pulled out a snug, gold lattice collar, moved around behind Vince, and Vince lifted his hair out of the way for Ryan to fasten it. It helped hide his Adam’s apple as well as looking delicate and feminine.

“One last thing,” Ryan said with a grin, opening the third box he’d pulled out. It was larger than the other two combined, and Vince didn’t know how to describe what was inside of it, other than it was silver and bullet-shaped, but large. It had lines down it and a handle of some kind attached.

Regina gasped softly. “Ryan, is that?”

Judging by Ryan’s grin, it definitely was what Regina thought it was.

“Do you know what a pear of anguish is?” Ryan asked.

“No, Master.”

“Bend over for me,” he said. Vince did so, bracing himself on the vanity. Ryan flipped up the back of the skirt and pulled his underwear down so they were around his thighs. “The pear of anguish was a medieval torture device. It was used to break jaws, back in the day, could be expanded.” He opened it, and Vince tensed, watching him and the toy in the mirror. He had definitely taken fists bigger than that toy, but the way it opened… it wasn’t going to be the same as taking a fist. Ryan dipped two fingers into Vince, and he sighed into the feeling, finally not empty. “I lubed you when I put you in the belt. So this”—He held up the toy again.—“should go right in.” He closed it, and it was only a moment before Vince could feel it at his entrance. He made himself relax, and the toy slipped in without much trouble. Ryan was bigger than the toy was when it was closed and had only been a few hours since he’d been taken.

Even so, just the act of being filled, having the weight of the solid metal toy, was oddly comforting.

“Color?” Ryan asked.

“Green, Master,” Vince replied readily.

“Excellent. Now this is not the original device, just inspired by it, but it is going to open up inside of you. And once it does, I’m going to lock it there. It only is about five inches long, so it won’t be able to get to your trigger. Do you know what that means, pretty girl?”

Vince closed his eyes and bit back a complaint to instead say, “That I can’t cum tonight, Master.”

“At least not while you’re locked up like this.”

He felt Ryan’s hand at the base of the toy, and then he did something. The toy expanded, and it was nothing like Vince had ever felt before. A primal whine tore itself from his throat as it opened up inside him, pressing out in three distinct places, one of them pushing _right_ on his prostate.

“ _Master_ ,” he tried to say, though it came out as barely a squeak, the pleasure of the toy pressing _right on his prostate_ stealing his ability to think, much less speak.

Ryan seemed to realize it because he _jiggled_ the toy, and Vince came dry with a cry. “So good for me,” Ryan praised, fiddling with the base for another minute or so, then pushing it a little harder, a hair deeper, but the continued pressure on his prostate made it difficult to think.

After minute, it shifted a little, not a lot, just enough not to be _right_ on his prostate, and the base was snuggled into his crack.

“It’s locked in place now, beautiful girl. No one will be able to play with that perfect ass except me,” Ryan said, looping a chain over his head with a key on it, tucking it into the neck of his shirt. “Stand up, now.”

“We’re not…”

“We have a club to go to. I intend to show you off. And unless my cock is in you, you’re going to have that in you the rest of the night.” He tugged on the base, making Vince feel how securely it was lodged inside of him and pressing on his prostate again. Vince whimpered. “Do you understand?”

_Understand what?_ Vince wondered, thoughts a twisted jumble, but he said, “Yes, Master.”

Ryan pulled his underwear back up and resettled the skirt of the dress. “Perfect. Now stand up. The only final touch is the shoes, which are down by the door, then we can go.”

The very idea of standing _upright_ with that thing inside him made Vince want to curl up and die, but he knew he had no choice. This is what he’d been rented out for. This was his job.

He straightened slowly, feeling the toy shift, and couldn’t restrain a whimper as it shifted the toy right back against his prostate, making his knees weak.

“You’re going to be in heels tonight, Aurum. You had better get used to that feeling.”

“Yes, Master,” Vince answered on autopilot.

That apparently wasn’t good enough for Ryan, who grabbed Vince’s chin and made him make eye contact. Staying standing was taking about all of Vince’s concentration so he really didn’t know if he could do whatever else Ryan wanted.

Ryan grinned, teeth perfect and very white. “You are going to be wrecked by the end of tonight,” he predicted.

It definitely stretched in a weird way, but he was also full again, and that mattered. Vince swallowed and did his best to give Ryan perfect posture. He wasn’t able to do it without a soft gasp, Ryan seemed pleased.

“Fuck. One day, I’m going to take you to a very expensive restaurant plugged up like this. You are so perfect,” Ryan said, looking over Vince with hungry, pleased eyes.

The words settled something inside of Vince. “As you wish, Master.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this chapter took so long. The last few months have been something else. I thought about holding it back to have the club scene, but I figured I'd kept you waiting long enough and a short chapter was better than no chapter. Hope you enjoy!


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